The Fairy Tale of Sarah Walker
by dettiot
Summary: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?
1. Chapter 1

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 1/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: This story is inspired by the movie **Sabrina**, but is only loosely connected to the events of that movie. I hope you enjoy this new story! Many thanks to somedeepmystery for her story _Chuck __vs__. __the __Charade_, which first made me consider doing a _Chuck_ version of **Sabrina**, and to Steampunk . Chuckster, aka victorianoir, for letting me bounce ideas off her.

XXX

Once upon a time, in the valleys of Northern California, there lived a small girl in a large winery. There were gardeners and grape pickers and a world-famous oenologist on retainer. Inside the winery's business offices were sales clerks, a winery manager, and a marketing director who made the winery into a destination for tourists and wine-drinkers alike.

Also part of the grounds was the estate for the Larkins, the family that owned the winery. There was a beautiful home, designed in the Mission style with windows that overlooked rolling hills covered in vines and wildflowers. There was an outdoor swimming pool, filled with saltwater, and an indoor swimming pool, heated year-round. There was an outdoor tennis court and an indoor tennis court. And there was a garage filled with luxury vehicles and one hybrid car.

Sarah Walker grew up on the large plot of land that made up Skylark Wines, observing a world of luxury without being truly part of it. As the daughter of the winery's marketing director, she wasn't exactly the help-not in liberal-minded, modern California. Yet she knew that she was an outsider. So she watched and dreamed of someday belonging someplace like this.

On a summer evening in mid-August, just before Sarah would return to Harvard for her senior year, the Larkins gave a party. It never rained during the Larkins' parties, because this was a fairy tale world.

Mr. and Mrs. Larkin were married after Mrs. Larkin, formerly Mrs. Bartowski, divorced her husband. Mrs. Larkin brought a two-year-old son to the marriage and promptly became pregnant with another son. Now twenty years later, Chuck Bartowski and Bryce Larkin were as different as two half-brothers could be.

Chuck Bartowski had attended Stanford University, majoring in electrical engineering. After his junior year, he had dropped out to run full-time the electronics company he had founded after coming into his trust fund when he was eighteen. At the age of twenty-four, he had already appeared on the cover of _Wired_ twice and was reputed to be the next Steve Jobs.

Bryce Larkin had already attended several well-known colleges in the three years since he had graduated from prep school. The summer between his sophomore and junior years, he had gone to Europe and married a French countess-a marriage that had only lasted six weeks. This summer he had returned to his family's winery, spending time with the friends he had grown up with, playing polo and golf, and making a name for himself as the life of any party.

Tonight, Sarah would get to watch Bryce dance and flirt with the daughters of winery owners and self-made millionaires. From her perch in a tree that overlooked the dance floor, she would wish that she could trade places with those girls for just a moment.

And that is where our story begins.

XXX

Ever since her growth spurt at fourteen, this tree was a lot less comfortable. But since it gave the best view of tonight's party without revealing her presence, Sarah accepted the discomfort in order to watch Bryce.

Tonight he was wearing a tuxedo: crisp black trousers and a white dinner jacket, looking handsome and debonair. His hair was slicked back, putting all the focus on his piercing blue eyes. Just looking at him, Sarah felt her heart beat harder.

It seemed like she had spent her whole life loving him-and just as long trying to get over him. She knew he'd never notice her. Not tall, skinny Sarah Walker, with her frizzy hair pulled back in a ponytail and the large glasses she hid behind. As children they had played together on the estate, but as they had grown older, and Bryce got more and more handsome and popular, they had grown apart. But she hadn't stopped loving him.

She shifted in the tree, feeling the bark through her thin t-shirt and faded black capris. Her bare toes pressed against the tree limbs to hold her in place. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and watched to see what lucky girl had been singled out by Bryce tonight.

When he caught the hand of a petite, curvy redhead, Sarah felt the same swirl of annoyance and hope. She didn't recognize the girl, but she was very pretty and was wearing a black dress that clung to each of her curves. On the downside, she had a very annoying giggle. But the mystery woman didn't look anything like Sarah in coloring or body type, so perhaps that meant Bryce had yet to check tall blondes off his checklist of women to try falling in love with.

Sarah wrinkled her nose. It was doubtful Bryce actually had a checklist, but it didn't change what he would do next. He would dance with her before sending her off to the indoor tennis court. While she waited, he would sweet-talk a bartender out of a bottle of champagne and some glasses, then join her there. They would dance and drink champagne and kiss, and it would all be so romantic and dreamlike.

Biting her lip, Sarah wished she could be practical about this. That she could find some way to actually do something about this situation. If she could just know if there was really a chance . . . if she could suddenly become pretty and show up at one of these parties and just dazzle Bryce, to see what it would be like to have him smiling at her like he was smiling at that redhead.

But for that to happen, she'd have to learn how to stop hiding. And Sarah didn't know if she was ready to be the center of attention.

"Darlin'?"

The sound of her father's voice sent her scurrying down out of the tree. "Hi, Dad," she said, brushing her hands over her clothes to remove any bark chips or leaves.

Jack Walker was tall and rangy, with eyes that saw everything. He could take one look at a person and have them all figured out within seconds. So she knew there was no way he couldn't figure out what she was feeling right now.

He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Shouldn't you make an early night of it, with flyin' to the East Coast tomorrow?"

"I know, Dad. Just . . . just give me a few minutes."

"Hmm," he said, looking over at the party.

"I'll be right up," she said, referring to the small apartment they shared, on the top floor of the building that held the winery's business offices and tasting room.

Jack nodded. "All right, darlin'. Just don't go all in unless you're going to win."

Sarah managed a small smile. "I know."

Her father turned and walked off, his steps loose and relaxed. Sarah suspected he had already had one or two glasses of wine, and would now have a few more before going to bed.

Putting aside his drinking, he was right. She should go to bed. Go to bed early, get up early and finish her packing, and then get on that plane that would take her back to Boston and her studies. But economics had stopped being interesting a long time ago, even if she had a natural talent for statistics and theories. She knew that there was a job waiting for her here at the winery whenever she wanted to take it. And it was just yesterday that Mr. Larkin had encouraged her to consider a postgraduate course at the Sorbonne, one that "we would be more than happy to pay for, since it would make you so much more prepared for working at the winery, Sarah."

But was that what she wanted to do? Sarah wasn't so sure.

With a sigh, Sarah leaned down and picked up her flip-flops from where she had kicked them off prior to climbing up the tree. She turned and practically ran right into Bryce, the champagne bottle he had resting on his shoulder almost hitting her in the jaw.

"Oh!" she gasped, stepping back. "Bryce! I'm so sorry. The-the tree must have hidden me."

Bryce laughed. "And here I thought Mother had planted some man-killing trees. But it's just you. 'Night, Sarah." He stepped around her and headed towards the indoor tennis court, whistling as he walked.

Sarah watched him go. "Yeah, just me," she said softly, gnawing on her lower lip. She slipped on her shoes and started walking, her hands sunk into the pockets of her capris.

It was supposed to be a nice, aimless walk. A chance to clear her head before she went to bed. But of course, her stupid traitorous feet carried her over to the indoor tennis court.

She shouldn't watch. Getting confirmation of what was going on was pointless because Bryce never deviated from his same strategy. But . . . but she still wanted to see. So she crouched down in the bushes and peered through the glass that enclosed the tennis court.

Moonlight was the only illumination. The music from the party's orchestra drifted on the air, faint and melodic. As Sarah watched, things had already progressed to the private dancing portion of the evening. Soon, he would move her into the far corner and under cover of darkness he would-

Her eyes stung with tears and Sarah felt like a fool. She stood up and broke out into a run. Her feet would hurt in the morning, but she didn't care.

When she reached the winery office, she threw open the side door with a bang, not even caring if she woke up her father. She just wanted to move through the offices to the back staircase that led up to the apartment. But after taking five steps into the building, she realized she wasn't alone.

Chuck Bartowski was standing by the door to the wine cellar, where the high-end bottles were stored. He looked at her, his eyes confused. "Sarah?"

"Chuck. Hi," she said, quickly rubbing a hand over her face. Any earlier tear stains were now covered up by rivulets of sweat, her hair was falling out of its ponytail, and she knew her feet and lower legs were dusted with dirt. She looked like a mess, and Chuck was dressed in a slim-fitting suit, looking every inch the grown-up professional he was.

She had barely seen him this summer; everyone said that he was working nearly round-the-clock at his company. Not that he needed to work so hard. It wasn't for the money, since he had barely tapped into his trust fund before his company had released some kind of amazing cell phone that rivaled the iPhone, so she had heard. That product was the start of a line of successes and a ton of money.

Because he was three years older than her and not friends with Bryce, Sarah had never spent much time with Chuck while they were growing up. In her memories, he was just . . . there. Usually with some kind of giant fantasy novel in his hand when he wasn't closed up in his room, doing things with wires and computers. But he had always been nice to her, and now here she was, storming through the offices like a crazy person.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to her.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, trying to ignore his concerned face. "Do you need help with anything? If I can't do it, I can get my dad."

He looked unsure, then gestured towards the wines. "I was looking for a bottle of that '89 Cab Sauvignon. The one that won all those awards for the winery."

She crossed the Mexican tiles that paved the floor of the large, spacious room and joined him in the doorway. "It should be all the way in the back on the left, fourth shelf from the bottom."

"Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully before moving into the long, narrow room that was used for this cellar. "I looked back here and didn't find . . . wait. Here it is!"

As he closed the door behind him, holding a bottle of wine in his hand, he gave her an appreciative, impressed look. "Can you do that with any wine we own? Say exactly where it is?"

Sarah felt her spirits rise a little. "I just have a good memory," she said. "What's the wine for?"

"Oh, business," he said. "I've got an investor I'm trying to charm." He gave Sarah a small, nervous smile. "That's why I need the wine, to make me seem charming. Of course, it would be easier if he wasn't thinking about where his daughter was."

His daughter? Her confusion must have shown, because Chuck explained. "He's super-protective of his daughter and there hasn't been a sign of her for the last hour."

The sinking feeling in her stomach told Sarah that she probably knew exactly where this missing daughter was. "Is she a redhead by any chance?" Sarah asked, knowing that she didn't sound nearly casual enough.

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "She is." He took a step towards her. "Sarah, you wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you? Because her father is really worried about her . . . "

It was hard to see him through her smudged glasses. But the smudges also helped to hide her eyes, so Sarah didn't make any move to clean her glasses. "I just know that she's safe," she said, not wanting to get the girl into trouble. But her innate honesty quailed at lying to anyone. So, after a moment's hesitation, Sarah told him. "She's with Bryce. I mean, I think she is."

Within a moment, she could see that Chuck had made the connection. She should feel bad about breaking up Bryce's date and wrecking his evening. And she did. But only a little.

Chuck quickly patted her shoulder. "Thanks, Sarah. You've been a big help. Hey, you're twenty-one now, right?"

She nodded, resisting the urge to sarcastically remind him that she had been twenty-one since March. But instead, she watched as he turned and grabbed a bottle of good, middle-of-the-road red wine. "Here, have this on me. Charge it to my account. Just don't drink it all at once-but you should know that with your dad working here, right?" He gave her a nervous smile. "I have to go. Good night, Sarah."

Her hands took the bottle without any conscious thought. "Good night, Chuck," she said, watching as another member of the Larkin family walked away from her. But since Chuck was actually a Bartowski, he at least threw a look back at her as he stepped out of the door, even giving her a little wave before he strode away on his long legs.

Sarah looked down at the bottle. If he had stopped to ask her, she would have told him that it wasn't necessary for him to reward her like this. She would have said that she wasn't a big fan of wine. She would have told him she especially didn't like red wine. But instead, Sarah took the bottle and slowly climbed the stairs to the apartment. Her father was snoring in his bedroom, passed out again, so she went into her own bedroom.

It would be tempting to drink the whole bottle, contrary to how Chuck had warned her. But . . . but there was nothing wrong with drinking half the bottle, was there?

With a tight grin, Sarah went into the kitchen and found a clean juice glass and a corkscrew. She proceeded to knock back a few glasses while IMing with her roommate, who was already back in Boston. Back where Sarah should be.

XXX

The wind was whipping and the sky was overcast as Sarah walked through the streets of Cambridge. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and her roommate had invited a bunch of her friends into their apartment for the start of her traditional Drink Your Way Through Thanksgiving event. That meant Sarah made herself scarce over the weekend, since she had a low tolerance for drunk people, thanks to how she had grown up. At least it let her get started on studying for finals.

Snow was just starting to fall as she pulled open the heavy door of the Widener Library. Noticing that someone was right behind her, she held the door open for the older man. He nodded to her. "Miss Walker."

What? Sarah did a double-take. "Excuse me, how do you know my name?"

The African-American man, tall and foreboding, smiled slightly at her. "We've been watching you."

"'We'?" Sarah asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Are you part of some kind of secret society? I don't think they admit women. So unless you've got a scholarship to give me, I'm not interested."

"Miss Walker, my name is Langston Graham." He pulled out a wallet and withdrew a business card, holding it out to her. "Have you ever thought about serving your country?"

"Look, I'm not a military type," she started to say, taking his card. Her eyes widened when she saw what was printed on the card.

Langston Graham

Assistant Deputy Director

Central Intelligence Agency

She stared up at him. "This isn't some kind of prank, is it?"

With a deep, throaty chuckle, he shook his head. "No, Miss Walker. If you're free, could I buy you a coffee?"

Not really knowing what else to do, Sarah nodded. Mr. Graham-Director Graham?-led her out of the library to one of the local coffeehouses. The whole way, she felt her mind whirling. The CIA was interested in her? A woman with no upper body strength and thick glasses? This had to be some kind of mistake.

But at the same time . . . she really, really hoped it wasn't a mistake. Because it was the last thing she would have ever considered doing, but working for the CIA suddenly seemed ideal. She hated the thought of being an economist, and the only other option for paying off her massive student loans was going back to California and working at the winery. And being there, so close to Bryce, watching him while he never noticed her-

No. She couldn't do that. And now, here was a man giving her another option. One that would be so totally different from what people would expect, what she had thought she could do.

Something that would let her find out who she was supposed to be.

By the time Mr. Graham came back with her coffee, Sarah had retrieved a notebook and pen from her backpack and devised a long list of questions. She launched into them, taking sips of coffee as she scribbled notes. The assistant deputy director was straightforward in answering her questions. When he couldn't answer a question, he told her whether it was a matter of national security, something that wasn't shared with anyone who wasn't a member of the agency, or her question just wasn't applicable. She appreciated that.

The more they talked, the more she felt convinced that this was the right choice for her. Finally, it came down to her last question. Looking at Mr. Graham, she spoke quietly. "Why me?"

"Because you have potential. Due to your intelligence and your personality, you fit a certain profile that we look for in people your age. In addition, do you remember the psychology class you took in your spring semester?"

"Yes, of course. PSYCH 312-Psychology of Impulse. My advisor, Dr. Coburn, recommended I take it."

"Dr. Coburn is the one who first recommended you to us, a year ago. She encouraged you to take that class because it's used to screen potential recruits. Due to your scores on certain exam questions-"

"Oh!" Sarah said, straightening up in her chair. "All those strange questions with the logic games and the visual puzzles?"

"Yes," Mr. Graham said. "Correct scores on those questions often reflect an individual who could be a resource for us." He pushed aside his untouched cup of coffee. "Miss Walker, we are very interested in you. If you accept our offer, your training will be fast-tracked. In two years-three at the most-you would be in the field, making a name for yourself."

He paused, then continued. "The CIA would buy out your student loans as well as pay you handsomely. We understand that you have applied for a postgraduate course at the Sorbonne. You will be accepted to that program, on paper. You will tell your family and friends that starting this summer, you will be too busy to come home or to have visits-that your studies require absolute immersion. But instead of attending the Sorbonne, you will be undergoing rigorous training that will shape you into what the Agency thinks you can become."

Sarah felt her heart beat faster. So quickly . . . and in the field? That meant-they wanted her to be a spy. That was-

"This is crazy," she muttered under her breath.

"No, Miss Walker, it's a sign of how important you could be. How important you already are."

Mr. Graham's eyes never flickered. She searched his face, trying to see if he was on the level. If this was true. She leaned back as she received her answer. It was all true. The government wanted to turn her into a spy. She wasn't sure what that really meant. Because she doubted that being a spy was like a James Bond movie.

For a moment, she considered asking him what would happen if she failed, or if she just turned him down. But she knew: she would go back home, work at the winery, and always wonder if she could have done this.

And right now, that was the last thing she wanted. So Sarah Walker, who used to take days to make the simplest decisions, made her choice in the blink of an eye. She looked at the assistant deputy director of the CIA and said, "Sign me up."

XXX

To: jwalker at skylarkwines . com

From: swalker at sorbonne . edu

Dear Dad,

I suppose by now I should be saying "Cher Papa" so I can show off my French, but I know how you feel about the frogs.

After six months, I finally feel like I'm starting to settle in. I'm sorry that I won't be home for Christmas, but I'm working very hard and learning a lot. For the first time in a long time, economics is fun, thanks to all these different perspectives here. And Paris and the Sorbonne is beautiful. I'm so glad I came here.

Tell me how everyone is back home. Did Maggie have her baby yet? How did the annual softball game between Skylark and Sweetie's Winery go? I'm sure it was better for Skylark not having me play-even in right field I didn't have much to offer. And Bryce? How is he doing?

I miss you more than you know. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Dad.

Love, Sarah

XXX

Closing the lid of the laptop computer, Sarah sighed softly at the web of lies she had spun for her father. There wasn't much that was true in that email. Yes, it had been six months since she had graduated from Harvard, with full honors and no student loan debt. For her father and anyone she used to know, she had immediately jetted off to Paris to settle in and improve her French before her classes began at the Sorbonne.

But in reality, she had spent the last six months getting her ass kicked in a thousand different ways. Her training had begun with intensive physical conditioning and lessons in a wide variety of martial arts. She had thought she was in good shape, thanks to running a few times a week and not being one to eat a lot. But joining the CIA meant being in the best possible physical shape.

It had been agony. The first four months, she had constantly been sore and bruised. But then, like a switch being flipped, everything started making sense. She could deflect blows and strike out without having to think of the move first, her body moving faster than her mind could. Any remnants of the freshman fifteen melted away, along with the merest traces of fat. Her body was now lean, toned, and nearly unrecognizable to anyone who used to know her, let alone herself.

Pushing her glasses up on her nose, Sarah got up and stretched. As she did, her jeans nearly dropped past her hips. With a groan, she yanked them back up. It was becoming clear that she needed new clothes, ones that would fit her new body. But how? She was in Middle of Nowhere, USA, and it wasn't like there was a mall within a hundred mile radius. Besides, she had no car and no access to the very large salary that she was being paid.

No, she'd just have to deal with it until she could figure out how she could go shopping. For now, she had to get ready for the start of a new unit of study. Since she had mastered the basics of martial arts, she was moving on to Observation and Infiltration.

Sarah tightened her belt and slid her feet into the plain navy blue sneakers that all the recruits were required to wear. As she walked out of her small bedroom, she considered the distance between her old life and her new one.

It was lucky that her father hated to fly, especially internationally. Since he thought she was in Paris, there was almost no chance that he would travel to see her. And since she was "too busy" to come home, her training could continue uninterrupted. She thought that she was doing well-at least, she hoped so. The CIA instructors weren't big on positive reinforcement.

Joining a crowd of fellow recruits, Sarah stepped into the classroom and took a seat. While most of the others had brought their laptops, she relied on her memory and a small notebook to remember what she had learned. Already she had heard whispers of "teacher's pet" and "freak" behind her back. But just like all the muttered insults throughout her life, Sarah ignored them.

A woman walked into the room. Slim and medium height, she had platinum blonde hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. Her makeup emphasized her dark brown eyes and full, pouting lips. She wore a red wool dress, one that draped gracefully over her figure. When she set her briefcase down on the desk at the front of the room, everyone grew quiet. She stood in the front of the room, her eyes sweeping over the gathered students. When she spoke, her voice possessed a hint of a French accent.

"Good morning and welcome to Observation and Infiltration. One of the bedrock principles of any intelligence agent is the ability to gather information without appearing to be doing so. To blend so perfectly into your surroundings that no one will notice you-unless you wish them to notice." She gave them a small smirk. "Tell me, what about me do you think is an act?"

Various recruits called out suggestions. The woman waited, taking them all in, then smiled. "Nope, my record's still intact. You haven't gotten 'em all." Now she spoke in a slow Texas drawl.

The woman drew off her wig, revealing a tight-fitting cap over her own hair. She removed that and shook out a dark, shining bob. "My name is Professor Day," she said, adopting a throaty British accent. "Today, I was distracting you. Making you notice how different I am from you."

Professor Day reached into her pocket and took out a rubber band, using it to pull her hair back into a neat ponytail. She kicked off her high heels and unzipped her dress. Wiggling out of it, she revealed a pair of jeans rolled up above her knees and a gray t-shirt, the same uniform the recruits wore. Whistling, she rolled the jeans down and adjusted the sleeves of the t-shirt.

Sarah watched, enthralled like the rest of the students, as the professor opened her briefcase and took out a pair of navy blue sneakers. She put them on, sitting on the edge of the desk. From her briefcase, she removed a packet of tissues and wiped away her makeup, leaving her fresh-faced and much younger-looking. Flashing a smile at the students, she spoke in a flat Midwestern accent. "Now I look remarkably like all of you. Does anyone think there's anything else I'm faking?"

Staring at the professor, Sarah thought about her movements, how she spoke, and what else she could change about her appearance. Suddenly, an idea came to her-one that was ridiculous, but she was certain of it. Taking a deep breath, Sarah lifted her hand in the air.

"Yes?" the professor said, pointing to Sarah.

It would be sure to get a reaction, but- "Take off your fake breasts, sir."

A ripple of noise spread across the room as everyone leaned forward, searching to see what Sarah saw. The professor grinned widely. Without saying anything, she-he-turned around and pulled off his t-shirt, revealing a set of broad shoulders and an extremely uncomfortable-looking bra. He undid the bra, then turned around and let it fall to the floor, taking his breasts with it. Then he unwrapped a strip of flesh-colored tape from around his neck, revealing his Adam's apple.

The professor bowed and picked up his shirt, and there was a burst of scattered applause. Professor Day pulled his shirt on, then looked up at Sarah. "Very well done, Recruit Walker. How did you realize I was a man?"

"When you bent over to roll down your jeans, the-the breasts didn't move correctly. They looked fake." Sarah couldn't help blushing a little. "Honestly, I was just guessing you were a man. I thought it could just be fake breasts, but I decided I should take a chance."

He laughed. "Thank you for helping me prove my point, Recruit Walker. Which is-through the magic of hair and makeup and clothes, it is possible to look very, very different from who you actually are. This transformation is a bit extreme, but it's in line with what you will be expected to do in your careers."

"As a result of such transformations, it is easy to forget who you are. To get lost in your part, to use an acting metaphor. This is why it is crucial to know who you are, before you put on a lick of makeup or a wig." His eyes swept over the room. It might have been Sarah's imagination, but she thought they lingered on her. "Before anyone turns up their nose at that, this is solid psychological theory. So you better be ready to get comfortable with yourself. Learn who you are and what you look like, so you will know that you're actually a blue-eyed blonde when you look like a green-eyed redhead."

Sarah bit her lip and looked down at her folded hands as Professor Day kept talking. Get comfortable with herself? Suddenly, she wasn't looking forward to Observation and Infiltration as much as she had been.

XXX

To: jwalker at skylarkwines . com

From: swalker at sorbonne . edu

Hi, Dad. This is just a quick email before I leave. One of my professors invited the class to his country home for a long weekend and I'm just waiting for my cab to pick me up and take me to the train station.

I thought my classes this past year were tough, but I think this last semester has been the hardest one yet. I have my final papers to finish and present before the school, and if I don't do well I might not receive my certificate. I'd really hate for that to happen, so I'm working as hard as I can. It's the presentation I'm really dreading-you remember how I've always hated public speaking. Having to do a speech in French is ten times worse! But I feel as ready as I'll ever be. I keep remembering what you always said: just imagine everyone in their underwear. It's actually helped!

What helps me get through all the hard work is the thought of what lies ahead. Getting a job, making new friends, having fun without worrying about papers to write. And I'm looking forward to seeing you as soon as I'm done with school. You, and Napa, and everyone back home. How is Bryce doing, by the way?

There's the taxi!

Love, Sarah

XXX

"So, Sarah," Professor Day said as they walked around the indoor track, cooling down from their run. "Are you excited about finishing your training?"

Sarah looked at Professor Day, whom she now called by his first name of John, and nodded. "I am. I feel like I'm ready." She sipped from her water bottle.

"You are ready," John said, giving her a proud smile. "One of the best recruits I've ever taught."

"You only say that because I'm still the only one to spot that you were in drag on the first day of O&I," Sarah said with a grin.

"That's partly it," John said, staying serious. "But it's more than that. You truly have come a long way."

The pride in his voice made Sarah smile a little. "I have. And I'm looking forward to seeing how far I can go."

"Just as long as you remember that hair can do things other than go into a ponytail," he teased.

She laughed softly. "Yes, John."

If it hadn't been for John Day, Sarah wouldn't feel nearly so confident about her future. He had done more than teach her; he had become a mentor. By taking her under his wing, John had waved a magic wand to help her transform herself. Over the last year and a half, she had slowly developed her own sense of style, determined what clothes worked best for her depending on the situation she was in, and had become very competent with hair products and makeup.

It still surprised her when she caught sight of herself. There was still a moment of disconnect, when she expected to see a frizzy ponytail and the thick glasses that she had never really needed. Now, she saw shiny blonde hair and big blue eyes, clear skin and an amazing figure. But it was still a mask, just like her glasses and her oversized clothes had been. That was the purpose for all of her hard work on her appearance: so she didn't need any obvious props to become a different person.

As they finished their cooldown and began stretching, Sarah thought about what was front and center in her mind. Reaching the end of her training was making her nostalgic. No, not nostalgic-just very conscious of how she had changed. Not only physically, although her looks had definitely improved from where she had started two years ago. But on the inside, she had changed, too.

Sarah knew now that nothing in life fell into your lap. Everything happened based on your actions and choices. Being recruited by the CIA was due to her grades and hard work. Succeeding here was thanks to applying herself and learning everything she could.

That wasn't to say that luck didn't play a role. After all, she didn't think she would have ever learned how to wear clothes or apply eyeliner if it wasn't for John. He was like a fairy godfather to her. He had shared his years of experience with her, supported her during her rough patches and cheered her when she succeeded. If she hadn't become friends with him, Sarah doubted she would have improved so much.

But luck only went so far. And she knew now that waiting around and hoping for things to change didn't work. You had to make the change happen. If she didn't receive an immediate assignment, if she ended up going home for a while, she wouldn't wait for Bryce to notice her.

She would make him notice her. She wouldn't waste her time with a crush: she would find out what it was like to be the girl in the indoor tennis court.

Smiling to herself at the image, Sarah looked down at John. "Have you heard anything about my assignment?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, putting on her most enticing look.

But since John was the one to teach her that look, it didn't work on him. "You know I can't say anything, even if I did know anything. Director Graham will be arriving tomorrow to pass out initial assignments. You'll find out then."

"You can't even give me a hint?" Sarah wheedled.

"My lips are sealed," he said, grinning at her.

It was tempting to keep trying, but Sarah shrugged and gave him a small smile. "You can't blame a girl for trying." She jumped to her feet. "I'll see you later."

As she waited for the elevator to take her up to the residential floors, Sarah mentally planned the rest of her day. With her workout completed, the rest of the day was wide open and she should use the hours productively. Practice her Russian, since it was the language in which she felt weakest-go through her clothes and evaluate what she should pack and what she should store-or she could just be lazy and take a nap.

When the elevator doors opened on the main floor, the smile was still on her face. But when she saw Langston Graham step into the elevator, she quickly schooled her face into a more neutral expression. "Director Graham."

"Recruit Walker," he said with a nod. "Although it's nearly Agent Walker. As of noon tomorrow."

Sarah couldn't help a tiny smile at his words. "Yes, sir."

"I've arrived early in order to speak with you. About your assignment."

"I'm very eager to hear what I'll be doing, sir," Sarah said, looking up at Director Graham.

He swept his eyes over her in a probing gaze, as if comparing her current appearance and attitude to her former self. Or perhaps that was just her imagination. Whatever the reason, he nodded again. "I have an office on the first floor. Report there at four o'clock and we will discuss your first assignment."

"Thank you, Director. I look forward to hearing more," Sarah said, noticing the elevator had arrived at her floor. She considered imitating his cool, professional nod, but didn't think she could pull it off. So with a quick sidelong glance, she stepped off the elevator and kept her stride as natural as possible as she walked towards her room.

Now that her afternoon was set, Sarah quickly prioritized. A shower, a light lunch, and then research. Because she wanted to walk into that office fully prepared for whatever Director Graham had to say.

Precisely at four o'clock, Sarah knocked on the door that lead into Director Graham's temporary office. She smoothed down the skirt of her dark suit, then lightly ran a hand over her hair, which hung about her shoulders in loose waves. The look she was going for was professional, businesslike, but still feminine. She hoped she was successful.

"Enter," came Graham's deep voice.

Sarah opened the door and stepped inside. "Director Graham," she said, before shutting the door and walking towards his desk.

"Good afternoon, Recruit Walker." He gestured towards the chair in front of her and Sarah sat down, crossing her legs. "Your performance has been exemplary throughout your training."

"Thank you, sir," she said, folding her hands in her lap. She kept her eyes on his face, determined to not fidget or hide from his attention. This was what she wanted: to be recognized for her hard work, for the skills she had struggled to acquire. In a sense, this was like her final exam.

Graham looked down at a file spread out over his desktop for a moment, then looked up at her and leaned back in his chair. "I understand that you grew up in California-that your father works for a winery there."

It was an unexpected question, but Sarah thought she managed to hide her surprise. "Yes, sir."

"Skylark Wines, run by the Larkin family. A winery that has a connection to Bartowski Electronics."

She shifted slightly in her chair when he didn't say anything more. It seemed that Director Graham was looking for her explanation of the situation.

"Yes, sir," Sarah said. "Chuck Bartowski is the son of Mary Larkin from her previous marriage. He started a computer company when he turned eighteen and has been running the company full-time since he was twenty-one."

"According to your file, it was expected that you would work for Skylark Wines when you were finished school," Graham said, eyeing Sarah.

"More that if I wanted, there was always a job waiting for me at the winery," Sarah said slowly, her mind working hard to determine just what the director was getting at.

"Do you think such an agreement would exist for you to work at Bartowski Electronics?"

Suddenly, a piece fell into place. There had recently been some reports about Chinese spies attempting to infiltrate American electronics companies, because China wanted to acquire the original designs for the tech, instead of just manufacturing it. If one of their targets was Bartowski Electronics . . .

"I don't know, sir," Sarah said. "I suppose that it could be arranged. I don't really know Chuck, but . . . but if I contacted him, I think he might be willing to listen to me."

"We thought the same, so we've already begun making arrangements." Graham lifted a folder and passed it to her. "This contains your mission brief. Due to this assignment taking place in familiar environs for you, and the skills you have so conclusively demonstrated, you'll be flying solo on this one. You will have a contact in San Francisco if you require any equipment or analysis."

Sarah nodded, holding the folder firmly. "Thank you, sir." While it was a huge sign of the CIA's trust in her that they were letting her handle this on her own, she wasn't sure how she felt about going back home. About confronting so much of her past . . .

Although maybe that was exactly what she needed. This mission would give her the chance to close the book on her old life. Like something out of a fairy tale, she could return home as a brand-new Sarah and get some questions answered before starting a new life.

Like finding out just what it felt like to kiss Bryce Larkin. Because Sarah had no doubt that she could get him to kiss her, with how she looked now and what she knew how to do. And maybe in the last two years, she wasn't the only one who had changed. Maybe Bryce had changed, too.

She felt a small smile appear on her face. "Thank you, Director Graham. When do I leave?"

"You're booked on an afternoon flight tomorrow. Your dossier, background materials, and contact info is in that folder," he said, gesturing towards the folder he had given her. Reaching into the desk drawer, he took out a cloth bag and handed them to her. "Here are your credentials. Report to Agent Jones down the hall to be issued your sidearm." Once Sarah had taken the bag, Graham stood and extended his hand. "Good luck, Agent Walker."

The emphasis he placed on her new title sent a thrill down her spine. Sarah rose from her chair and shook his hand. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Director. I won't let you down."

He smiled a little at her and nodded. "Safe travels."

Sarah couldn't help giving him a wide smile in return before she turned and left the office. Once she was in the hall, she couldn't wait. She quickly unzipped the cloth bag and pulled out a leather wallet. Opening it up, she saw the CIA shield opposite an ID card, bearing her name and picture.

Holding her badge, Sarah felt a wave of emotion. It was real. She was a CIA agent now. Sarah Walker wasn't just Jack Walker's daughter anymore, or the tall girl who always hid behind her glasses. She was a pretty, smart, confident woman now. This badge proved it.

This might be the best moment of her life. Any butterflies she had about going home had flown away. Because it felt like nothing could hold her back. Nothing could stop her.

She tucked her badge into the pocket of her jacket, then started walking down the hall, enjoying the click of her heels against the linoleum floor, feeling her hips sway a little more than usual. As she walked past a clump of male agents, she realized that they had turned to watch her walk by them.

A wide smile broke over her face. She was half-tempted to stretch out this feeling. To see if any of those men was interested in celebrating with her. But she quickly discarded that idea. She had work to do and men were a dime a dozen.

XXX

To: jwalker at skylarkwines . com

From: swalker at sorbonne . edu

Well, Dad, this is my last email from this address and from Paris. I graduated yesterday and tomorrow, I'll be flying home.

I know this will surprise you, but while I'm coming back to Napa, I won't be working at Skylark. I've taken a job with Chuck Bartowski's electronics company, working in his finance department. I hope this doesn't annoy the Larkins, but this position with Bartowski Electronics is amazing. And I'll be living with you again until I can start looking for an apartment.

This is such an exciting time for me. I'm so ready to be done with school and starting my first job. I've changed so much since I left for Paris that remembering who I was makes me dizzy. I've left the frizzy hair and the glasses behind me.

More than just my appearance, I've changed on the inside. I'm not the scared, shy girl I used to be. I now know how I want to live my life, so I can't wait to get started living. I'm looking forward to showing you how much I've changed-and what hasn't changed.

I should arrive at the winery sometime after dinner. Don't worry about picking me up at the airport; I'll rent a car when I land and drive out to the Valley.

Sarah

XXX

End, Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 2/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: I'm so glad that people are enjoying this fic already! Thank you for all the reviews. I've never been to Napa Valley or Northern California, so if I totally messed up anything here, please forgive my researching skills.

XXX

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are beginning our descent to San Francisco International Airport. Please return your seatbacks and tray tables to their full and upright position-"

As the pilot began the final safety announcements, Sarah straightened up in her seat. She tucked away the files she had reviewed throughout the flight, then made sure her seat belt was fastened.

"Happy to be home?" her seatmate asked, an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a lech's smile.

She gave him a cool smile and nodded. "Yes, I am. Although I'm just visiting, actually. My boyfriend is flying me out for our anniversary-I had to take a different flight because of work. I think he might be proposing to me this weekend."

"Oh," the man said, his smile fading slightly. "Good luck, then." The flight attendant, leaning down to tell the man to turn off his iPad, drew his attention away from Sarah. She turned to look out the window, smiling to herself. Thanks to her training, she now knew how to get rid of men like that. It certainly wasn't a skill she had learned growing up.

But all those sorts of thoughts faded as she watched the landscape below her. As the plane sank lower and lower, the view began to take on definition. Blobs of color became houses and commercial buildings, pools and parks. Just visible was the slate blue of San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean.

Although San Francisco wasn't what she considered her childhood home, it was close enough. Now that she was nearly home, on the verge of starting her first assignment . . . she was feeling her nerves kick in.

What if she screwed this up? Would her career be over before it even began? If she couldn't fit in at her cover job, if too many questions got raised about why she was working for Chuck instead of her father . . .

Sarah realized she was gripping the armrests so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She made herself loosen her grip, taking a few deep breaths.

Think positive, she told herself silently. She could do this. She had all the training she needed and her first mission was one in which she could succeed. There would be no cover identity to maintain, the hardest thing she'd be doing at Bartowski Electronics was trying to remember what she had learned at Harvard, and as a bonus, there was Bryce Larkin.

Over the last two years, she had met many men who were as charming and handsome as Bryce. But none of them had made her want to give in to the potential romance. She didn't know if Bryce would be able to sweep her off her feet, but she'd like to see him try. She'd like to have a little romance in her life.

With a thud and a few bumps, the plane touched down on the runway. Sarah joined the crowd deplaning and walking into the terminal. She stopped in a restroom, checking her clothes. It hadn't been a long flight, so her skinny jeans, white tank top, and black jacket were relatively unwrinkled. She ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing out the long blonde strands, and then smiled a little as she reapplied some lip gloss. Slowly, she was getting used to being pretty. To having that sense of confidence that came from knowing she looked good. She thought she would need that confidence when she got home.

To pass the time until baggage claim spit out her suitcases, she pulled the beat-up smartphone she had been using the last two years out of her bag. She frowned as it took forever to turn on and acquire a signal, making a mental note that she would need to get a new phone. But she had an email from her father, welcoming her back to California and promising a special dinner when she arrived home. But her eyes widened as she reached the last paragraph.

_You __should __brace __yourself__, __darlin__', __because __Bryce __is __getting __married __again__. __Word __got __out __yesterday __that __he__'__s __gonna __marry __Elizabeth __Harvey__. __Her __mom __runs __that __crappy __winery __Sweetie__'__s__. __Looks __like __old __Bryce __is __trying __to __make __the __family __happy __this __time__. __Third __time__'__s __the __charm__, __I __guess__. __The __wedding__'__s __supposed __to __happen __in __a __few __months__. _

Sarah frowned. Well, that was inconvenient. But after all, she just wanted to have some fun with Bryce. She doubted this wedding or bride was any different from the previous two-the French countess or the reality-show star. At least this time he'd be making his family happy, as her father said. But he wasn't married yet, so he was still fair game.

Now she would need her confidence even more.

The arrival of her bags let her focus on getting out of the airport. Within an hour, she was in a rental car, navigating her way north towards the Napa Valley and Skylark Wines. As she drove, she took in the vistas through the windshield: all the old sights she remembered and the new businesses and houses she didn't know yet. Rather than use the air conditioning, she rolled down the windows, letting the wind blow through her hair. The June air was warm enough that she slipped off her jacket halfway through the drive.

Once she drove through the town of Napa, heading towards the winery, she could see acres of vines, stretching as far as the eye could see towards the Mayacamas Mountains. There were also lush groves of plum and pear trees, and along the sides of the road were wildflowers. She couldn't help smiling at seeing the beauty of the valley once again.

When she reached the road that led to the winery, she took a deep breath as she turned onto the road. The long, sweeping drive curved past more fields of vines, ones that belonged to Skylark Wines. As she approached the winery's office buildings, including her father's apartment, Sarah could just see the Larkin house. She paused, then pressed down lightly on the accelerator, driving towards the family home.

The Larkin mansion was perched on a hill, giving it what was sure to be a beautiful view out over the vines. She had always thought it was a beautiful house, the epitome of what a house should look like in her book. More than that, actually-it seemed like the perfect home for a prince and a princess.

She pulled over by the side of the road to gaze at the house. Long ago, she had figured out which room was Bryce's. The sun was still too high for any lights to be on in the house, alerting her about whether Bryce was home. Of course, he might have changed rooms over the years. And sitting here was foolish, when her father was waiting to take her out to dinner.

Just as she started the engine so she could turn around and return towards the winery offices, a low-slung red convertible roared down the drive from the garages behind the house. It slowed slightly as it approached her car, and she caught a glimpse of dark hair on the male driver. To her surprise, the driver slammed on the brakes and then backed his car up the drive, stopping when he drew even with hers.

"Car trouble, miss?" Bryce Larkin asked, looking at her over the top of his sunglasses. He gave her a slow smile, one that was dripping with sex appeal and charm.

He didn't recognize her. Sarah felt herself return his smile, trying to make it sexy and alluring even as her stomach flip-flopped. "No, no car trouble. Just taking in the scenery," she said, gesturing towards the house.

Bryce glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at her. "I'd rather look at you. Are you visiting the winery? I can offer you a very private tour if you're interested."

Sarah felt a small, uncharacteristic giggle bubble out of her. He really had no idea who she was. Oh, this was going to be fun. "That's very nice of you, but I don't need one."

"You don't?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Wait, are you a local?" He shook his head. "I thought I knew every pretty girl in Napa County."

"I thought you got around more than that," she said, leaning one arm on the car door.

At that, Bryce pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head, giving her the full impact of his baby blues. "You know, you do look kind of familiar . . ."

"Well, why don't you meet me at the winery offices, and you can think it over as you drive?" Sarah suggested, biting her lower lip so she wouldn't grin like an idiot.

"I'll do that, just because I always do as a gorgeous woman tells me to," he said, giving her a wink. He replaced his sunglasses and peeled off.

Sarah watched him go, then shook her head. So Bryce really hadn't changed in the last two years. Strangely, she found that more comforting than disappointing.

Turning the wheel, Sarah carefully turned her car around and drove down the drive. She pulled into the parking lot behind the winery offices, sliding into a spot next to Bryce, who was already leaning against his car. A quick glance into the rear view mirror to check her appearance, and then Sarah stepped out of her car, carrying her jacket and slinging her slouchy hobo bag over her shoulder.

"I've been wracking my brain, but I can't figure out how I know you," Bryce said.

She gave him a small grin as she pushed her own sunglasses up on her head. "Then I suppose I should put you out of your misery." She held her hand out to him. "I'm-"

"Darlin'!"

Her father's voice interrupted the moment. Forgetting Bryce for the moment, Sarah turned to look at her father, who appeared to be surprisingly healthy. He didn't look like he was drinking himself to sleep every night, which made Sarah's heart lift.

Giving Jack a big smile, she stepped towards him. "Dad!" she said, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

Pressing her face against his shoulder, she inhaled the scent that meant her father: peppermint and wine. But as she pulled back, she couldn't smell any wine on his breath. It made her smile even bigger.

"My God, darlin', what'd they do to you in Paris?" He stepped back and looked her over. "I woulda hardly recognized you if I had met you at the airport."

"That seems to be going around," Sarah said, leaning against his side and looking over at Bryce with a grin.

He took a step towards her, looking a bit dazed. "Sarah? Sarah Walker?"

Jack rolled his eyes and looked down at her. "Where's your bags, darlin'?"

She handed him the keys to the rental. "We can get dinner as soon as I've changed, Dad." While her father got her suitcases, Sarah turned to look at Bryce. She gave him a lopsided smile. "Surprise."

Bryce shook out his head. "Surprise is an understatement. Wow, you really have changed."

"Paris is good for a girl," she said, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Wait," he said, reaching out and taking her arm. "Have dinner with me."

Sarah looked at him, taking in the tension that had suddenly appeared in Bryce. She didn't quite know why, but it looked like he didn't like being the one without the upper hand. Keeping him off balance was too much fun, though. Arching an eyebrow, she nodded towards her father. "Sorry, I already have a date tonight."

"Tomorrow night, then," he said, keeping a firm grip on her arm.

Casually, she let her eyes flick down to his hand on her arm, then back up to his face. Bryce got the hint and let go of her arm. He ran a hand through his hair and gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I just-you fascinate me. I want to get to know this new Sarah Walker."

He got points for leaving unspoken the word "improved" in that description of her, she conceded. So Sarah gave him a Mona Lisa smile. "All right. Tomorrow night at seven."

That charming smile, the one that had always dazzled her, flashed across his face. "Perfect. I'll pick you up and we can go into San Francisco. Get some dinner in Chinatown, see a show-" He stopped and his face fell. "Damn. I just remembered-my parents are throwing a party tomorrow night."

"Like the ones they always used to have?" Sarah asked, feeling like everything was falling perfectly into place.

Bryce nodded. "Yeah, probably a real drag . . . "

"Let's go to the party," Sarah said. "It'll be so much fun." She smiled at him, and felt incredibly gratified when he smiled back at her.

"If that's what you want, okay, then."

"Then I'll meet you there," she said, stepping back from him. "See you tomorrow."

She turned and headed into the winery offices, keeping her eyes focused ahead of her and not looking back at him. But she knew, from the heat she felt on her back, that he was watching her every step.

XXX

Since she wasn't scheduled to begin working at Bartowski Electronics until Monday, Sarah planned to take advantage of the weekend to sleep in a little. But with the time change, it was just past six when her eyes opened. She gazed up at the ceiling, letting herself think warm, sleepy thoughts about tonight's party. Fortunately, she didn't need to worry about what to wear. John had insisted she get an evening gown, answering her protests with the motto "A spy is always prepared."

She would have to send him an email to thank him, Sarah thought as she stretched. Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed and padded to the kitchen, thirsty for some coffee. She stood by the window, sipping her coffee and taking in the view.

Idly, she wondered if Chuck would be at tonight's party. She needed to do some research, but from what she knew, he had less and less to do with the family business. According to her father, he didn't even live in the Larkin house anymore.

"He's got a big fancy condo in Palo Alto," Jack had said over a dinner of steak and local roasted vegetables. She had been pleasantly surprised that her father only drank water during dinner. "He stays there the bulk of the time."

"What's he like?" Sarah had asked, taking a bite of steak.

Her father had leaned back in his chair. "Smart as a whip. Anyone can see that. But he's pretty soft. He's certainly the nice one in that family. Must be his dad's contribution."

That fit with what Sarah remembered of Chuck and what was in her briefing paperwork. Chuck Bartowski was seen as a pushover, someone who wouldn't be able to stand up to any threat to his company. That was why she was here: the intelligence indicated that Bartowski Electronics was ripe for an attack by Chinese agents.

All anyone knew was that the company was about to unveil some kind of new, ground-breaking electronics device. It was extremely hush-hush. The CIA didn't have a lot of expertise in industrial espionage; they were only here because of the China element. So Sarah would have to figure out what the Chinese were trying to steal and prevent the theft from happening.

She would probably have to get close to Chuck. Become friendly with him. She wasn't quite sure how that was going to happen, but it would be a good challenge. It was one thing to get information from someone she didn't know, when she could use a wide range of tricks and schemes. But with Chuck, it was different.

So today would be about research and then preparing for the party. She would have to get the dress out of her suitcase and iron it. Sarah paused. Or she should just drive into Napa and pay extra for a dry cleaner to iron the dress, given she really only knew how to use an iron as a weapon.

With a shake of her head, Sarah put her coffee cup in the sink and put on her running clothes. She'd need to find a gym or dojo-or both-in order to stay in top condition, but for now a run would do plenty.

The morning light was soft and pale as the sun rose. Sarah took a few deep breaths, enjoying the softly perfumed air, before she started jogging up the drive. It perhaps wasn't appropriate, but going up the drive was the quickest way to get towards the grove of trees that she had always liked as a girl. And while she didn't want to attract any attention, the secluded jogging path that had been laid out when Sarah was younger was definitely not challenging enough.

Sarah stepped into the courtyard behind the Larkin house. Paved with bricks that looked like cobblestones, the courtyard was the site for all the fancy parties held on the estate. Already there were tables being set up, chairs and stands in place for an orchestra, and lanterns being strung overhead.

Pausing for a minute, Sarah looked around, taking it all in. She had seen these preparations so many times over the years, and knowing that tonight she would actually be attending . . . She felt a smile bloom on her face.

As she stood there, she saw a tall, lanky man step out of the back door and start crossing the courtyard, moving around the people doing the party setup. Sarah's eyes narrowed as she realized who it was.

What was Chuck Bartowski doing here? And should she approach him?

The question was taken out of her hands when he walked past her, then did a double-take. He turned and looked at her, his face confused. "Can I help you?"

Time to put on a show. She smiled at him. "Hi, Chuck."

He tilted his head to the side, then his expression cleared. "Sarah Walker? Wow."

It took two words for him to recognize her? He certainly was the smart one around here.

"Thanks," she said with a laugh. "It's good to see you."

She ran her eyes over him, taking in his appearance. He was wearing a pair of old, faded jeans and a white t-shirt, at odds with his polished dress shoes. His hair was a bit disheveled and unkempt, making him look younger and softer than the publicity photos in his file. One arm was bent at the elbow, holding a garment bag that rested against his back.

"So . . . doing the walk of shame from your parents' house? Daring," she said, looking up at him.

"What? Oh!" His face flushed, right up to the tips of his ears. "No, um, no, it's not like that. I came over for dinner with some venture capitalists-friends of my stepfather's. It got too late for me to drive back to Palo Alto, so I spent the night. But since I don't live here anymore, I had to make do with the clothes I had left behind."

Teasing him was fun. Sarah smiled at him. "Ahh, I see."

"So you're back from France?" he asked. Given that she was wearing shorts and a sports bra, she was amused and somewhat impressed by how his eyes never moved from her face.

"I just got back last night," she confirmed. "And I start working for you on Monday." Sarah tried to strike a friendly note without going too far. After all, she would be his employee, and she didn't know how he expected his employees to treat him.

Chuck smiled brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I saw that. It'll be great to have you on board. Although I thought you would be working here." He waved his hand around, his gesture clearly meaning the winery.

"I wanted a challenge and I don't know much about technology. I thought this would be a good opportunity to learn," Sarah said.

He nodded. "I'm glad to have you. I mean, have you working for Bartowski Electronics. If there's anything I can do to help you out, just give me a call. I have an open-door policy."

So far, she could see how the CIA and her father thought Chuck was too soft. He was so friendly and welcoming. But she liked it. She had been a bit concerned about how she would manage her job at his company, but she was a lot less worried now.

"Good to know," Sarah said. "I . . . I hate to talk and run, but I probably shouldn't be standing around here, and I was on my way for a run, so . . ."

Why was she rambling? She shook her head. "I'll see you on Monday."

"You got it," Chuck said, nodding at her. "And I meant it-stop by anytime."

"I'll remember," Sarah said. She gave him a quick wave and turned, jogging off towards the trees. And unlike with his half-brother, she didn't feel the heat of his eyes on her back. When she glanced over her shoulder towards the courtyard, he was disappearing into the garage.

So that was Chuck Bartowski. He didn't seem that different from her memories of him. It seemed like the people here didn't change-Bryce, Chuck . . . But then, her father had apparently stopped drinking. It gave her some food for thought as she started picking up her pace, losing herself in the movement of her muscles as she ran.

XXX

Leaning in towards the mirror in the bathroom, Sarah turned her head back and forth, judging her appearance. Removing a small speck of mascara, she smiled. She looked flawless, if she didn't say so herself.

Her hair was caught up in a loose bun, with curls framing her face. Her makeup was soft yet dramatic, featuring false eyelashes and a deep glossy pink on her lips. Stepping back from the mirror, she took in her navy-blue one-shouldered gown, seeing how the skirt flowed around her legs.

In short, she was doing everything she could to make an impression on Bryce Larkin. To make sure tonight played out like so many other nights. So she could have him charm her and romance her. She would get her taste and then she could move on, be ready to focus on her job and her future.

Picking up her clutch, she walked out of the bathroom and into the main room of the apartment, where her father was watching a Giants game. He took a look at her and let out a long whistle. "You sure that's a good idea, darlin'? Pulling out all the stops for Larkin?"

"For one night, I want to feel like a princess," Sarah said. She did a small twirl. "What do you think?"

"You definitely look like a princess," Jack said, his voice choked.

She looked at him quickly, wondering what was going on. But whatever had prompted his response passed quickly.

"Have a good time, Sarah." He got up and lightly kissed her cheek.

"Thanks, Dad," she said, giving him a small smile. "Don't wait up for me."

"Had no plans to do so, darlin'," he said, grinning at her as he sat back down.

Sarah laughed and stepped out of the apartment, climbing down the stairs carefully. In spite of all her practice, she still wasn't completely steady when it came to wearing heels. Especially with the skirt of a floor-length gown swirling around her feet.

Holding up her dress, she walked slowly up the rambling pathway that lead from the winery office to the Larkin house. The drive was more direct, but the path was easier tonight.

It also let her make an entrance to the party. As she drew close to the courtyard, the sound of the orchestra grew louder. The courtyard was full of couples spinning around, moving in time with the music. Sarah listened for a moment and recognized the tune from an old movie: _The __Way __You __Look __Tonight_.

The party itself was like a fairyland. The moon shone overhead, making the lanterns purely decorative. Waiters carried around trays of champagne, moving gracefully past women in beautiful gowns and men in tailored tuxedos.

Taking it all in, Sarah felt a bubble of happiness grow inside her. It was like something out of her childhood dreams, brought to life before her very eyes.

And just like in her dreams, Bryce glided towards her, pushing through a clump of admiring men as he held his hand out to her. "Sarah."

She had to admit she got a fluttery feeling, hearing him say her name like that. Soft, caressing, like he thought it was the most perfect name in the universe. She held her hand out to him, and he took it gently, drawing her into his arms.

He was an excellent dancer, she thought as he moved them around the courtyard. She felt like she was floating on a cloud, swept up in a whirl of romance.

"Oh, Sarah," he said softly into her ear, his hand stroking her back.

A small sigh slipped out. "This is the nicest party you've ever had. And I've been to all of them."

"You have?" he asked, pulling back enough to look at her.

Sarah smiled up at him. "Right over in that tree." She gestured towards her familiar old oak tree at the edge of the courtyard.

"You've been so close all my life. And now here you are in my arms," he said, his voice soft and honeyed.

"Here for now," she said, letting herself nestle against him. Because he felt good and this was what she wanted.

"For now?" Bryce asked, sounding confused. Then he nodded his head. "Oh, so you've heard about my engagement."

"My father told me," Sarah said, leaning her head back to look at him. "Congratulations."

"It's all business," Bryce said, sounding resigned. Not unhappy, she noted. Just . . . unaffected. "Marrying Elizabeth will make both my parents and my brother happy."

Sarah frowned. The wedding would make Chuck happy? "What do you mean?"

"Well, Elizabeth's mother runs a winery, so just like my parents' marriage, this one will bring together two wineries."

"I know that," Sarah said, trying not to sound impatient. "But how does your brother fit into this?"

"I dunno," Bryce said. "I just know it has something to do with all the sugar cane plantations Elizabeth's father owns. Second-largest holdings of sugar cane in the world. Seems pretty useless to me, since all you hear people talk about is high-fructose corn syrup, but that's Chuckles for you."

When he was talking about his brother, his voice was as matter-of-fact and disinterested as when he talked about his wedding. Like he didn't really care about him. Sarah knew the two of them had never been close, so it was interesting that Bryce was considering the impact on Chuck when it came to his wedding.

Bryce reached out and played with one of her curls. "I think that's enough talking, don't you?"

Looking into his eyes, which were so blue and perfect, she couldn't help nodding. He smiled at her and drew her back into his arms.

They danced for what felt like hours. It was perfect: he didn't step on her feet, his hands didn't wander places they shouldn't, and he kept up a stream of soft, charming whispers into her ear. She could feel her whole body loosening and relaxing, like she was clay being molded by him into the princess in a fairy tale.

"Bryce? Bryce?"

A sharp voice pierced the happy haze that Sarah had fallen into. Turning in Bryce's arms, she saw his mother standing in front of them, wearing an expensive black gown and a dissatisfied expression.

"Hello, Mother," Bryce said, keeping his arm around Sarah.

"I haven't had the chance to meet your partner," Mrs. Larkin said, sounding equal parts perplexed and annoyed.

"Good evening, Mrs. Larkin," Sarah said. "It's me, Sarah Walker."

Mrs. Larkin's eyebrows rose up her forehead-or at least, they would have if her face hadn't been Botoxed into an eerie stillness. "Sarah?" Her eyes ran over her, then she continued speaking, an air of forced kindness in her voice. "How you've changed."

"Thank you," Sarah said, feeling a spark of humor flare up in her. She was half-tempted to ask if Mrs. Larkin thought the change was for the better, but before she could say anything, Bryce swept her away.

Sarah couldn't help chuckling. "I don't think your mother is my biggest fan."

He snorted. "No, not really. She thinks I should be spending more time with Elizabeth. But since she couldn't come to the party tonight . . ."

"You can be your own man," Sarah said, gazing up into his eyes.

"That's right," Bryce said, gazing back. He lowered his voice. "Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private, like-"

"The indoor tennis court," she said in unison with him, feeling almost giddy that just like she had imagined, she was being romanced by Bryce Larkin.

He looked confused. "Yes . . ."

Sarah smiled widely at him. "And you'll bring champagne and get the orchestra to play _Isn__'__t __It __Romantic_?"

"I guess you saw a lot from that tree," Bryce said, looking a bit put-out but chuckling.

"I did," she said, smiling at him. Giving in to an urge, she lightly kissed his cheek, then stepped under his arm. "I'll see you in a few minutes?"

"Of course." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, letting go of her hand gently.

She felt giggly and girly with him. She restrained herself enough to give him a small smile and then turned, walking away with her shoulders straight as she headed towards the indoor tennis court.

Walking through the grounds, hearing the music float through the air and the smell of flowers and grapes mingle, Sarah thought she might have fallen into a movie. Because it was already the perfect night and it was about to get better.

XXX

When she stepped into the indoor tennis court, she actually spun around a few times, needing some way to expend her nervous energy. To let out her excitement. After having a crush on Bryce Larkin her whole life-a silly, immature crush, she knew-she was going to find out what it was like to be kissed by him. To have him touch her. Her skin felt like it was vibrating, she was so ready for this moment.

She might look like a grown woman, but in this moment, she felt like her twelve-year-old self. The girl who longed so desperately for Bryce and just wanted to dance with him. To have him be her first kiss. And although he couldn't be that anymore, she was going to enjoy tonight. She would give her younger self exactly what she wanted.

Looking around, she sought the perfect way to welcome Bryce when he arrived. Should she be leaning against the net, ready with a saucy quip? Should she step out of the darkness and act desperate for him?

Her eyes lighted on the umpire's chair, commanding a view over the court. Yes, that was perfect. Lifting up her skirts, she climbed up into the chair and perched carefully on the seat. Then she tried leaning back casually, but that didn't work. So she sat up straight and waited for Bryce to arrive.

_Isn__'__t __It __Romantic__?_ had just begun to play when she heard the door to the court open. She didn't look at him, making herself gaze in the opposite direction. But the footsteps didn't sound right . . .

Turning her head, Sarah nearly gasped when she saw Chuck standing in the middle of the court, looking awkward as he held a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Without thinking, she blurted out, "Chuck? What are you doing here?"

He looked up at her and waggled his fingers around the neck of the bottle in a half-hearted wave. "Hi. Bryce sent me."

"Bryce sent you?" she repeated, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her. What was happening to her perfect night?

"I think you should have some champagne before I tell you," he said, bending over to set the glasses down on the ground before fumbling with the champagne cork.

She watched him, feeling unable to cope with this change of plans, then jumped when the cork shot out and hit one of the glass walls.

"Sorry, sorry!" he said. He crouched down and poured the champagne into the glasses, then looked up at her. "Do you-do you want your champagne up there?"

All she could do was stare blankly at him. Taking her silence for assent, he started coming towards her, which snapped her out of her daze.

"No, no, I'm coming down," Sarah said, scrambling down with a lot less grace than she had planned.

Chuck gave her a small smile and held the glass out to her. She took it and made herself take just a sip, instead of swallowing half the champagne.

"You said Bryce sent you?" she asked, looking up at him.

"He did . . . he asked that I come and apologize for him." Chuck looked nervous and uncertain, shifting on his feet. He looked at her, then he took a step towards her, his free hand moving around her.

"What-what are you doing?" she asked, looking at him with a wrinkled brow.

She could see him swallow. "I thought . . . if you had been here with Bryce, you would have danced, so I thought I would give you that, even though I'm not Bryce."

It was on the tip of her tongue to snap out something very mean. Something like "If you know you're not Bryce, then you shouldn't bother trying to be him." But in the nick of time, she held back. She took a deep breath. Clearly, Chuck was doing a favor for Bryce, one that he didn't want to do. The least she could do was to try and make things easier for both of them.

Sarah straightened her shoulders and gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry. I . . . I didn't expect something like this to happen."

"Neither did I," Chuck said, returning her smile. He held his hand up, then moved to rest it lightly on her back. Sarah switched her glass into her other hand and rested her right hand on his shoulder.

Slowly, they began to move in a small circle in time to the faint music. It was a strange dance, since they only touched each other with one hand. She wasn't quite sure where to look, so she found herself focusing on the knot of his neck tie. Unlike the other men at the party, he was wearing a dark suit, a snowy white shirt, and a coordinating solid tie. He looked nice. Solid.

"I didn't know you would be here tonight," Sarah said quietly.

"I didn't know, either, when we spoke this morning. But my stepfather called and asked me to come over and speak with someone who was curious about investing in the company," he said, his voice equally low.

"There seems to be a lot of that kind of talk," Sarah said, thinking of her mission. She knew about so many different threads, but she had no idea how the threads combined into the big picture. This might be the opportunity she needed to begin forming the connections.

"Yes, well, there's rumors that we're going to be introducing something new. Something really special. Everyone wants to get in now before it's too late."

Unlike Bryce, whose hand had rested so feather-light on her back that she had barely felt it, Chuck's hand was firm and solid on her back. She could feel each of his fingertips through the gauzy fabric of her dress.

"Are the rumors true?" she asked, glancing up at him for a moment.

"Some would say where there's heat, there's fire. But then others say that a good CEO is someone who can make rumors work for him."

Sarah tilted her head back so she could look at him. "That's nice and vague."

He let out a soft laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be vague. I just didn't think you'd be that interested, since . . . it's kind of a dry subject."

"Did you not see that I got my bachelor's degree in economics?" she said, starting to relax. "Few things are more dry than economics."

Chuck grinned at her. "I stand corrected."

For the next few moments, they just danced. With holding glasses of champagne, it wasn't much more than swaying in a circle, but it was . . . nice. It mitigated some of the disappointment she felt over not doing this with Bryce.

"Why did you come and not Bryce?" The words just slipped out. Sarah bit her lip. She should have kept the discussion on Bartowski Electronics and its sudden appeal to potential investors. But she did want to know what had happened to Bryce and why he had sent Chuck. And he might have thought it strange if she kept talking about business, after being so upset about Bryce not coming.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke slowly. "Right after you left to come here, Elizabeth showed up. Bryce's fiancée," he said.

"Oh," Sarah said softly. If she was a betting woman, she would have bet that Mrs. Larkin had called Elizabeth to get her to the party. That would mean Bryce had to deal with his fiancée and couldn't meet her here.

"Yeah," Chuck said. "When that happened, he asked me to come down here. To explain what happened, so you wouldn't feel like you had been stood up."

"That was nice of him. And you," Sarah said, finding her attention fixed on his throat.

She saw him swallow. "No one deserves to be stood up."

Another silence fell and they kept dancing, but this time it felt different. Fraught with some emotion that Sarah couldn't quite identify.

"If Bryce is engaged . . . why did you come here tonight?"

Sarah stopped and looked up at him. "What?"

He looked embarrassed, maybe nervous. But he kept his eyes on hers. "You know that Bryce is engaged, and we both know what happens here. I don't think this place has ever actually been used for tennis. But you came here tonight. You were waiting for him."

Something about his words, about his look, made shame wash over her. Why had she done this? It would be one thing if Bryce wasn't engaged. If this was something that would be between the two of them. But even if his marriage was going to be one of convenience, for business reasons only . . . Bryce was getting married. And she would have been the guilty party if Bryce had shown up here tonight.

Why had she been so willing to throw aside such good values like truthfulness and loyalty and kindness, in order to get what she wanted? Her cheeks flushed and she dropped her head, pulling away from him.

"Oh, crap," he said softly. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. Other than being none of my business, I really-I mean, as of Monday I'll be your boss, and the last thing anyone wants is to think that your boss is thinking about a moment when you felt totally revealed. Of course, I'm just guessing about you feel right now. Um, can I do anything?"

She wasn't sure how to answer him. She looked up at him, seeing a worried, compassionate expression on his face. It made her feel slightly less embarrassed. Because contrary to his words, she didn't think he would hold this against her once they were in an employer-employee relationship.

"I . . . I guess I got so caught up in the fairy tale that I forgot it wasn't just about me," she said slowly.

"The fairy tale?" he asked, gazing at her.

She put some more distance between them. Needing to be apart when she explained this. "I grew up watching Bryce bring girls here. And tonight, I wanted to be that girl."

Chuck had slid one hand into the pocket of his trousers. He looked down into his glass, then took a small sip. "I can understand that," he said quietly.

"You don't think it sounds pathetic?"

"No, of course not," Chuck said, moving to within a few feet of her. "Bryce has always had that quality. A certain something that makes people want to be around him." He gave her a lopsided smile. "The life of the party, you know."

Nodding, Sarah looked down into her glass. "I've had a crush on Bryce for what feels like my whole life. I thought tonight I could get over it. But with him being engaged . . . it won't happen. Not now."

"I don't mean to sound patronizing, but . . . but I think that's a good decision." He shrugged his shoulders. "Not going through with it, I mean. Not that my opinion matters that much."

"It does, though," Sarah said, looking over at him. "At least, it's nice to know you think it's a good idea."

"But do you think it is?" he asked, pinning her with his brown-eyed gaze.

It took her a moment to think that over. To figure out how she felt. But then she looked up at him and nodded.

A soft, crooked smile appeared on his face. "I'm glad, Sarah."

Sarah smiled back, feeling more even-keeled. She leaned down and picked up the bottle, topping off her glass and then holding the bottle towards his. Chuck nodded and accepted the refill. "So it's just you and me now, huh?"

He stopped mid-sip and coughed a little. "Oh, you don't have to stay with me if you don't want to. You could always go back to the party."

"I don't really think I'd be welcomed," Sarah said, smiling wryly at him. She kicked her heels off and carefully sat down, folding her legs underneath her skirt. "Besides, you still have to tell me if the rumors are true about Bartowski Electronics."

With a laugh, Chuck sat next to her. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on one hand. "If I drink more than this glass, I'll have to spend the night again. My mother will be shocked, since I haven't spent two nights in a row in this house since I was twenty."

"If that was an attempt to change the subject, it's failing miserably," Sarah said cheekily. "C'mon, spill."

"Was your summer job working for the North Koreans, torturing secrets out of dissidents?" He grinned at her, removing any potential sting from his words.

She shook her head, laughing. "All right, all right. Keep your secrets, then, Mr. Bartowski." She lifted her glass to him. "We should toast."

Chuck held up his glass. "What should we toast to?"

Looking at him, after this very strange evening, this toast suddenly had more weight than she meant it to have. Trying to prevent this from spoiling this cocoon they found themselves in, she spoke softly. "To . . . California."

Something flickered in his eyes, but then he smiled and tapped his glass against hers. "To California."

And as she drank her champagne, she found herself very happy that she was home.

XXX

It was very late when Sarah walked into the apartment, her hair falling around her shoulders and her high heels in her hands. She had spent the rest of the evening drinking champagne with Chuck and mostly talking about his company. She had a lot to learn, especially if she wanted to be able to figure out just what any Chinese spies might be looking for.

By the time there were only dregs left in the bottle of champagne, they had shifted into a free-ranging discussion about driving versus public transportation. Sarah was pro-car while Chuck was pro-train. When that conversation had finally reached its conclusion, Chuck had given her a loose, easy smile. "I think it's time for all good boys and girls to be in bed."

She very nearly said, "With each other?" Just to see what he would say. But instead, she had nodded and then stood up very slowly, bracing herself for her head to swim. At least she had a good grasp on terra firma due to her bare feet.

"Okay there?" he asked, standing up quickly and then putting a hand to his head. "Oooh . . ."

"Easy, easy!" she said, reaching out and grabbing onto his suit jacket. "Don't pass out."

Chuck shook his head. "Nope. Not gonna pass out until I'm in my bed."

"Right," she said, snagging her shoes and clutch. "Bed. That sounds good."

They leaned on each other as they walked out of the indoor tennis court. The chilly air made Sarah feel more clear-headed. She took deep breaths, enjoying the freshness.

"Do you need me to walk you home?"

Sarah smiled up at him. "Such a gentleman. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" he asked, looking at her closely. "I'm good. I can walk you to the winery office."

With a laugh, she patted his shoulder, turning him towards the Larkin house. "Go to bed, Bartowski. I'll see you on Monday."

"If not sooner," he said with a grin. "Good night, Sarah."

She watched him walk up towards the back door of the house, then looked up at the moon and sighed softly before heading towards the winery office.

Now Sarah moved through the apartment quietly, stepping into her room and dropping her heels. She felt so tired and sleepy that she merely shed her dress and let it fall to the floor. A quick rummage in her dresser located a t-shirt that she pulled on as she tumbled into bed.

Snuggling down into bed, Sarah closed her eyes and thought over how tonight had taken several unexpected left turns. She might not have gotten the full fairy-tale evening, but it had still been a good night.

One that she hoped might be repeated some time in the future.

End, Chapter 2


	3. Chapter 3

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 3/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: I know I might get some rotten fruit thrown at me for this chapter . . . but hopefully you'll hang in there until the end and feel less worried. :-)

XXX

"Sarah? Hey, Sarah!"

The sound of Bryce's voice made her whip around, jogging in place as he ran up to her. "Wow, you're fast," he said, his eyes running over her body and giving the words an extra meaning.

She arched an eyebrow, but couldn't help smiling a little. "Hi, Bryce."

"I talked to Chuck this morning. I'm really sorry about last night," he said, gazing at her.

Sarah let herself come to a stop and took a long pull on her water bottle, trying to rehydrate after all of last night's champagne. It also gave her a moment to think. Because she had made a promise to herself last night: Bryce was now off-limits. As much as she wished she could have the romantic dream, she had to wake up and think about why she was here. She was here for the mission, not for Bryce.

"It's probably for the best," she said quietly. "Because after all, you are engaged, and I . . . I don't want to get in the way of that. I thought I was okay with it, but I'm not." She looked at him, gauging his reaction to her words.

Bryce ran a hand through his hair, looking annoyed. "Elizabeth's a great girl, but neither of us are in this for love. You don't have to feel guilty or anything."

"It's not about whether you're okay with doing this, Bryce," she said, feeling more calm than she thought she would be. "It's about whether I'm willing to be that kind of person. And I'm not."

He frowned as he looked at her, then blew out a breath. "You know, I've never met a girl like you."

"What, smart and opinionated?" she said, grinning a little at him.

"Try beautiful and stubborn," he replied, returning her grin. "But, listen, I still feel bad for what happened last night. Foisting Chuck on you and everything. Let me make it up to you. Dinner, tonight. Anywhere you'd like, on me."

"'Foisting' Chuck on me?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

Bryce shrugged. "The guy's a bit of a social moron. But he's good in a clutch, like last night." He reached out and took her free hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "You still haven't said yes."

"What makes you think I'm going to say yes?" Sarah asked, trying to keep her voice a little bit frosty. Because she didn't want to forget her promise to herself and Bryce could very easily make her do that.

"Because I'm really sorry and I really want to make up for bailing on you last night," he said, giving her a beseeching gaze. "C'mon, do it for your old friend Bryce."

Between his eyes and his thumb still rubbing her knuckles, Sarah felt herself melt a little. What was the harm in one date? They would go out, have some fun, and that would be the end of it. And perhaps that was enough to satisfy her childhood dream.

She heaved a heavy sigh as she smiled at him. "I suppose so. If I said no, I bet you'd just make a nuisance of yourself."

"A nuisance? Me?" He mimed being stabbed in the heart before grinning at her. "I'll pick you up at seven." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then turned and ambled off in the direction of the Larkin house.

Picking up her feet, Sarah started jogging, letting her mind mull over everything. She hadn't anticipated Bryce being so persistent. Hopefully, their date tonight would be enough for both of them. Because she didn't know if she would be able to hold him at arm's length, especially once she began working at Bartowski Electronics.

Her conversation with Chuck last night had helped her feel ready to start work, understanding more about the company. But every time she brought up the investors, he danced around the rumors. Clearly, he was nervous about something relating to his business.

Was there a possibility that he was working with the Chinese? Could he be planning to slip information to them?

Sarah shook her head and picked up her pace. That was crazy. She might not know Chuck Bartowski all that well, but thinking he was a traitor? There was no way he was that. And maybe she shouldn't discount the possibility so quickly, but all her instincts told her that if Chuck's company was being targeted by the Chinese, it wasn't at Chuck's invitation.

Of course, that still didn't tell her what the enemy agents were interested in acquiring from Bartowski Electronics, how much of an inroads they had made at the company, and what their timetable was. Or it could be that it was a false alarm-a case of smoke not indicating fire.

Taking a quick drink from her water bottle, Sarah tried to clear her head. So many of these questions were ones she couldn't answer yet. Not until she started working and saw what it was like at Chuck's company. Her encounters with Chuck had helped lay the groundwork for them to be friends. It could be helpful for the mission.

For now, she should be focusing on getting ready for her date. Showing Bryce that there was no hard feelings while trying to keep a bit of distance between them. She could do that. She hoped.

XXX

As the waiter cleared their plates, Sarah smiled at Bryce. "That was amazing," she said, propping her chin on her hand.

"Just wait until you taste the fig cheesecake. To die for," Bryce said, smiling at her and refilling her wine glass.

It hadn't missed her attention that Bryce had kept her wine glass full. Thankfully, she had planned ahead and taken a pill from her CIA kit, one that would negate alcohol. Even though she still didn't like wine that much, she had finished two glasses with dinner in order to fit in with Bryce, who had drunk the majority of the bottle he had ordered at the start of the meal.

Dinner had been not that different from what she had expected. Bryce had turned on the charm from the moment he had picked her up, apologizing for what had happened at the party and determined to "show her a good time." She could tell he was certainly angling to get her into bed, but that wasn't going to happen and she made that clear. Whether he just didn't catch her signals or was just ignoring them, Sarah felt her resolve stiffen over the course of dinner.

Bryce made her laugh, complimented her, and acted like she was the center of his world. Or at least, he tried to. She hadn't missed how his eyes wandered towards the bar, scoping out the women clustered there. Or how he checked his phone throughout their meal, sending texts and smirking a little.

Watching him in action, Sarah felt a pang of sympathy for Elizabeth. Hopefully, she knew what she was getting with Bryce.

"Mmm, cheesecake," Sarah said. "Will you have that at your wedding?"

He rolled his eyes. "You keep bringing that up. What's wrong, do you need a reminder that I'm off-limits?" He grinned at her, resting his arms on the table and leaning towards her. "I'm not, though. I'm all yours if you want."

"I'm just curious," Sarah said lightly. "After all, this is marriage number three for you. You must have some ideas about the kind of wedding you want."

"Nah, the wedding's all about the bride, really." He looked at her and sighed. "That's why I'm getting dragged away for two weeks with Elizabeth."

Sarah lifted her eyebrows. "You are?"

"She wants a destination wedding, but she's not going to take any chances. So we're going on a whirlwind tour: Mexico, Turks and Caicos, Thailand, Hawaii . . . basically places where she could get married in a bikini if she can convince her mom." Bryce shrugged. "It's two weeks of vacation in a variety of paradises. I don't mind tagging along."

"And maybe it'll be good for the two of you," Sarah said. "Give you a chance to get to know each other better." She smiled at him. "Perhaps you just might fall in love with your fiancée."

"I never pegged you as a romantic, Sarah," he said, sipping his wine.

"I'm not," she said, shifting a little in her chair. "I'm practical. If you're not in love, what's the point of getting married?"

Bryce laughed. "You are something else, Sarah Walker. I still don't understand why you're not going to work for Skylark."

"I appreciate your family, how they've always encouraged me. And how there's always been a position for me if I wanted to work for the winery," Sarah said. "But the position at Bartowski Electronics is ideal for me, and it lets me get into the tech field. If I want to stay here, in this area, it's a good way to get a foot in the door."

"You're going to be wasted on Chuckles," Bryce said. "Once a nerd, always a nerd. Did you know the company sponsors a bowling league? Mom had a fit last year because the prize for the winning team was stock options. Especially when a bunch of secretaries won."

"I think they're called administrative assistants now," Sarah pointed out. "And it sounds nice to me."

"I guess," Bryce said. "Let's get that cheesecake, and then we can head over to the club. Do some dancing, listen to some music." He smiled at her.

She nodded, returning his smile and leaning back in her chair. Over the last year, she had discovered she enjoyed dancing. It would be fun to go with Bryce to a club, to keep the date going. Especially since he was going to be gone with his fiancée for two weeks.

At least she wouldn't have to worry about Bryce being a distraction now. With two weeks to get comfortable at Bartowski Electronics, she would be in good position to hunt for any evidence about Chinese infiltration.

It seemed like everything was working out perfectly. So when Bryce lifted his glass and toasted her, she smiled back at him and drank, too. It was time to enjoy the rest of the date.

After the delicious-as-advertised cheesecake, Bryce took her to a dance club, where she let herself go and danced as much as she wanted. It was even better than she had expected since Bryce was an excellent dancer. There was something about being in a hot, crowded room, feeling her body move in time with the music, feeling Bryce move with her, that made her feel strong and powerful like nothing else. She pushed away all her thoughts and just danced.

As he drove them back to the winery, Sarah gazed out through the lowered window of the car, looking into the darkness. She was sweaty, her hair was a mess, but she was happy. And that wasn't an emotion she was used to feeling. Not simple, no-strings-attached happiness.

When Bryce pulled into the parking lot of the winery's business office, she turned to look at him. "I had a really good time tonight, Bryce."

"That was the plan," he said, turning off the car and gazing at her. "Let me walk you to your door."

Sarah smiled. "All right." Stepping out of the car, she took a deep breath of the cool air, lifting her hair up off her neck and shoulders. She looked over at Bryce as they walked slowly to the door.

He was going to kiss her. She was sure of that. The question was, should she let him? She paused by the door, looking at him, taking in his bright blue eyes, the dark hair that was rumpled and wind-blown, and made her decision.

To hell with it. This was her only chance to kiss him.

Reaching out, she slid her hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly. He immediately responded, his hands going to her hips and pulling her in against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue opened her lips and slid into her mouth, bringing the taste of wine and cheesecake against her tongue.

Bryce Larkin definitely knew how to kiss. It was nice. Very nice. But after a few moments, Sarah pulled back from him slowly and rested her hand on his chest. She gave him a smile. "Thank you for a wonderful evening. Good night."

"I can't talk you into more?" he asked, already stepping back as if he knew her answer.

"Let's leave this on a high note," she said, grinning at him. "Night, Bryce."

Without waiting for any further response, she opened the door of the business office and stepped inside, heading for the stairs to the apartment. As she walked, she could feel a smile bloom on her face.

It had been a wonderful evening. And now that she had gotten her date with Bryce Larkin, complete with a good night kiss, Sarah felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Not just because of the date, but because she now knew that while Bryce Larkin was some kind of Prince Charming, he wasn't her Prince Charming.

XXX

Even though she was late, Sarah made herself take slow, even steps as she stepped into the modern white building that was the home of Bartowski Electronics. Being an extra minute late so she wasn't red and panting seemed the wisest decision, although she hoped it wouldn't be held against her on her first day.

Looking around, she took in the lobby. It was vast and brightly lit by the morning sunshine, featuring large, comfortable-looking sofas in a deep navy blue. On the walls were displays of various gadgets and advertising banners for Bartowski Electronics products-banners that looked like movie posters. A white receptionist's desk was tucked in one of the back corners, flanked by several sets of doors and a large trophy case.

It definitely gave her a sense of what kind of company this was. She found herself smiling a little as she walked up to the desk. She gave her name to the receptionist, who asked her to wait while someone from HR came out to meet her.

Sarah nodded and stepped over to the trophy case. To her surprise, it didn't contain company awards, but employee ones. She saw a bowling trophy engraved with the names of each year's winning team, photos of sack race winners at the company picnic, and plaques honoring employees who had worked for the company for a certain number of years.

"Sarah?"

Turning around, she saw an older woman who was incredibly petite, wearing an enormous pair of glasses. The woman smiled brightly at Sarah. "Hi, I'm Linda, I'm your human resources rep." She held her hand out to Sarah.

Shaking it quickly, Sarah smiled back. "I'm sorry for being late-I got caught in horrible traffic from Napa."

"It happens. We're pretty easy-going about the time clock around here. A lot of employees make their own schedules. And if you're interested, we have Caltrain passes available as an employee benefit." Linda headed towards one of the sets of doors, running a key card through a scanner. Sarah followed Linda, surprised at how quickly the woman could move.

As Linda led her back to the HR office, Sarah swept her eyes around, observing all she could. She noticed that the offices were laid out in a variety of open-plan concepts with different numbers of cubicles arranged and configured in the space. Soft conversations could be heard, punctuated with laughter and the slaps of high-fives. Everything seemed relaxed and friendly, and Sarah felt a new tingle of excitement. Yes, this was a cover job, but if everyone was this easy-going, it would be easier to do what she had to do. And enjoying her time here would be a nice bonus.

In Linda's office, Sarah filled out reams of paperwork, carefully inking the numbers of her real Social Security number, even though it felt odd to be using her actual data. But since she wasn't technically undercover, her briefing had instructed her to use her own ID.

Once she was finished, Linda took the papers and shuffled them. "We have a few trainings for you to attend-sexual harassment prevention, non-disclosure agreements, things like that-and then you've got a meeting with Mr. Bartowski before you report to the Finance department and meet your supervisor for lunch."

"What?" she asked, looking at Linda in surprise. "Meeting with Mr. Bartowski?"

Linda nodded. "He meets with all new employees."

"Oh," Sarah said, biting on her lower lip. She wondered if she should offer to release Chuck from the meeting, since she already knew him. But it didn't seem smart to make waves like that on her first day. So she just nodded and went along with the schedule.

At eleven-thirty, Linda escorted Sarah to the top floor of the building, towards a corner office. The office was broken into an outer and inner office. In the outer office, there were two administrative assistants working busily, their desks positioned to take advantage of the large, floor-to-ceiling window.

"I'll leave you here, Sarah. Mr. Bartowski will be right out to see you," Linda said, gesturing towards the navy couch and chairs arranged in a conversation area by the door to the inner office.

"Yes, okay," Sarah said, sinking down onto the couch. "Thank you, Linda."

The petite woman gave her a small salute and bustled away.

Sarah ran her hands over her hair, then straightened her jacket and brushed a piece of lint off her trousers. She wasn't quite sure why she was fussing with her appearance so much, but she thought it fit with how a new employee would act, so she didn't worry about it.

The inner office door opened and Chuck stepped out. His eyes landed on Sarah and a large smile spread across his face. "Hi, Sarah."

Standing quickly, she found herself returning his smile. "Hi."

"Come on into my office," he said, holding his arm out, the smile still on his face.

She nodded and stepped in, glancing at Chuck as they crossed the carpet to a set of chairs and a small table positioned by another floor-to-ceiling window. To her surprise, today he was wearing a pair of jeans and an argyle sweater, complete with a pair of black Chuck Taylors. Not what she expected a CEO to wear, but it worked for him.

"How's your first day been so far?" he asked as he joined her in one of the chairs.

"Good," Sarah said, shifting a little in her seat. "I'm excited to get started."

Chuck rested his arms on the table, looking directly at her. "I'm glad to hear that. That you're excited. I know that jobs can sometimes be just that-a job-but I want people who work here to be happy to walk in the door."

"I'm really impressed so far," Sarah said, giving him a small smile.

It might be her imagination, but Chuck appeared to flush a little. "I normally meet with all the new employees, but I really wanted to meet with you today, Sarah. For . . . for personal reasons."

Straightening up in her chair, Sarah wondered where this was going. It was important to stay friendly with Chuck for her assignment, but what if what he had to say would normally spark anger or disagreement? She wasn't sure to what to expect, so she hesitantly spoke. "What's going on?"

He looked down at the table top, looking thoughtful and a bit nervous, then lifted his gaze to hers. "I have a confession to make. About Bryce."

About Bryce? Sarah felt very confused.

Without waiting for a response, Chuck started talking. "My mother really wants Bryce to get married, and I think he could be happy with Elizabeth if he gave her a real chance. So when my mother came up with the idea of Bryce going with Elizabeth to look for wedding locations, I-I encouraged him to go. Even though I know that you . . . you have feelings for Bryce, and he's not married yet but still-" Chuck broke off, looking embarrassed.

There should be all kinds of logical reactions she should be having at this moment. Planning out how to respond, determining if she should tell Chuck that she wasn't interested in Bryce anymore, reassuring him that everything was okay.

Her first reaction shouldn't be the illogical desire to ruffle his hair and tease him about nice guys finishing last.

"It's okay, Chuck," she said softly, looking at him.

"Is it?" he asked, getting right to the point. "I know you were talking about fairy tales and dreams and acting like you were over all that, but I started thinking after Mom and I talked to Bryce and I realized that you might have just been saying that and didn't really mean it." He stopped and sighed. "And now I'm acting like I know you when I really don't."

Now she could understand what Bryce meant when he had called his brother a social moron. Although she didn't think it was about Chuck not knowing how to act-more that he seemed to see so many different perspectives that he didn't know how to react. So she quickly reached out and rested her hand on his forearm.

"Honestly, Chuck, it's okay. I had dinner with Bryce last night, and . . . you know, he's always going to seem like a prince from a fairy tale to me, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't behave like an adult. Like I should pine away and act like I can't live without him." She paused, wondering how honest she should be. "I understand why you and your mom want Bryce to be settled down."

"You do?" he asked, looking hopeful and concerned. Like he was so worried about her.

She nodded. "Of course. You want what's best for Bryce, and considering his previous wives . . . it's natural that you think you should help him out a little."

"Yes, exactly!" Chuck said, leaning forward. "Bryce has a lot to offer and I want him to be happy. Really."

In the back of her mind, she thought about what Bryce had said, about Chuck wanting the marriage to happen for Chuck's business. But she couldn't think of how to bring that up, so she decided to push aside that thought.

Choosing her words carefully, Sarah spoke softly. "I think that if the wedding is going to happen, it'd be nice if Bryce actually cared about Elizabeth. And if she cared about him-I don't know about that, since I haven't met her. So I was glad to hear he's going away with her."

Chuck smiled at her brightly. "Me, too."

It was easy to smile back at him, so she did. "So, please, don't feel bad about trying to help your brother," she said.

"Well, because you don't know me, you don't know that I can feel guilty about anything and everything," he said, looking sheepish. "So I feel bad that you won't have the chance to spend time with Bryce."

She give his arm a light squeeze, then upon thinking better of her actions, pulled her hand away. He was her boss, after all. In a sense. Fumbling to cover the slightly awkward moment, she said, "Maybe you just need to come up with something that will let you work off the guilt."

"That's a good idea," he said, his face brightening. He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Just because Bryce isn't around doesn't mean you'll be all alone. You could catch up with your old friends. Spend time with your dad. Get reacquainted with Napa."

Although she knew he was trying to be nice, his words made her feel cold. Because . . . she didn't have any friends here. Just her father, who was in the middle of the busy time of the year for the winery. Already he was barely around, and when he was Jack seemed more focused on eating and sleeping.

Before her CIA training, she had always kept to herself for the most part. But during her training, she had been lucky enough to form a small circle of friends, for lack of a better word. With Carina and Zondra and John, she had people she could spend time with, having dinner or shopping or seeing movies. It had been nice to discover how much fun having friends could be.

"Those-those are possibilities," she said, keeping her eyes lowered.

"What? What did I say?" he asked. She must not have kept her disappointment out of her voice, so she slowly looked up at him and tried to smile.

"It's just, I don't really have any friends here . . ."

"Oh," Chuck said, frowning. "I didn't think of that." He looked at her, then rubbed a hand through his hair. "Um, I have a solution."

"You do?" she asked, feeling her brow furrow.

He nodded. "I, I would be happy to help you settle back into the area. Until you felt comfortable, had met some people-I know I'm no replacement for Bryce, but if you were interested . . ."

Sarah couldn't help but feel touched by his sweet offer. Because that was what it was: sweet. It also helped her mission, by giving her reasons to spend time with Chuck and learn more about what was going on at his company. Best of all, she would get to spend time with a nice guy. A spy wasn't normally so lucky.

So she smiled at him and nodded. "If it's not too much trouble for you, I would love to take you up on your offer."

To her amusement, he looked shocked. "You would?"

"Yes, I would," she said, grinning. "It's very kind of you to offer, and besides, we had a good time the other night. So why wouldn't I say yes?"

"Um," he spluttered. "That-that's true. So . . . so, right."

Taking a quick look at her watch, she saw that it was lunchtime. "I have a lunch meeting with my supervisor in Finance. Why don't we do dinner tomorrow night?"

Chuck nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Meet you here at the end of the day?" she asked.

When he nodded again, Sarah felt a bit concerned. Was something wrong? She searched for something to say.

"You're not changing your mind, I hope," Sarah said lightly, rising to her feet. He leaped to his feet and followed her to the office door.

"No, of course not! I just-I didn't expect you to say yes," he said, looking shy.

Pausing at the door, she looked up at him. And she really looked at him, taking in his soft curls and brown eyes, his quirky features and lanky build. The thought of spending time with him was suddenly a lot more appealing.

She gave him a wink. "Get used to being surprised, Chuck."

His laughter followed her out of the office. She peeked over her shoulder and saw him grinning after her. Sarah turned forward and walked through the halls to the finance department with a smile on her face.

XXX

It was just after six the next evening when Sarah walked into one of the staff restrooms near her cubicle to get ready for dinner. There, she had swapped her tailored blazer for a shrunken black jacket and her flats for a pair of heels. Combined with her jeans and frilly blouse, she thought she looked good for a date with a friend. A quick touch-up to her makeup and hair and she was ready to go.

As she walked towards Chuck's office, she reminded herself that she couldn't rush things. She was eager to learn all she could about Chuck and Bartowski Electronics, but if she went too fast, she could spook him. And she didn't want to do that.

Sarah stepped into the outer office and smiled to the assistant that was left. "Hi. I'm meeting Chuck for dinner?"

The assistant smiled back. "Go right on in-Mr. Bartowski's last appointment left a half hour ago."

"Thank you . . . ?"

"Alice," the assistant said in answer to Sarah's unspoken question.

"Thanks, Alice," Sarah said, before opening the door into Chuck's office.

"Chuck?" she called out, wondering where he was.

"Just a minute!" His voice was coming from behind a closed door-perhaps a bathroom?

She hadn't gotten a good look at the office yesterday, other than having a sense of it being large but not lavish. Now, since it was empty, she took a moment to look around.

In addition to the small table and chairs where they had sat yesterday, there was a large desk holding up three computer monitors. The walls behind the monitors were covered with framed comic books. A shelf ran the length of the room with small action figures displayed on it. Next to the door was a long conference table and several comfortable office chairs, with a white board covered in sketches and notes attached to the wall in front of the table.

All in all, it made her think of Chuck. Personal touches, yet focused on work and the people who were involved in his company.

The sound of the door opening made her turn around. The smile on her face froze when Chuck stepped out, wearing a half-buttoned black dress shirt. He saw her and turned red. "Oh, sorry!" he said, quickly buttoning up his shirt the rest of the way. "I thought you were Alice."

"No-um, surprise," she said, feeling a flutter low in her belly. Which was ridiculous. She had barely seen anything.

He grinned softly at her. "And that's what you promised me: surprises." He walked over to his desk and hit the power buttons on the monitors as he rolled up his shirt sleeves. Dressed in jeans and the seemingly ever-present Chucks, the casual look was a good one on him.

Taking advantage of his turned back, Sarah gave herself a small shake. This was business mostly, with a dash of friendship. Suddenly getting the vapors when she looked at him would not help her do what she needed to do.

By the time he turned to her, she felt more composed. "Ready to go?" he asked, crossing the room towards her.

She nodded and put on a friendly smile. "All set."

"I thought we could take my car and then I'd drop you off here afterwards, if that's okay?" he asked as they left his office and headed towards the elevators down the hall.

"That's fine. Where are we going?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"Downtown Palo Alto has a bunch of great hole-in-the-wall restaurants. But I thought I would take you to my favorite place-Dragon Number One," he said, sounding slightly nervous.

"If it's Chinese, I'm in," she said, hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder.

Chuck nodded. "It is. Really authentic. At least, I think so. I've never been to China to see what real Chinese food is like."

Her spy side pointed out the potential significance of Chuck liking Chinese food and how he had never been to China. But thanks to her practical, non-paranoid side, Sarah ignored that thought for now.

"I love Chinese," she said, smiling at him.

"Great," he said, letting her step into the elevator before him. "How are you doing? Not feeling too overwhelmed on your second day?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, everyone's been really nice to not throw too much at me. And I like the team I'm on in finance."

"You're working on international licensing with Patricia and Tony, right?" he asked.

"I am," she said, not surprised to find him so knowledgeable. Over the last two days, she had seen just how much Chuck Bartowski knew about his staff, and how much everyone liked him. He seemed to strike the perfect balance between knowing everything without being a micromanager. And in response to his support and trust in the employees, she heard nothing but praise for Chuck. How loyal he was, how kind and supportive, how open to suggestions and determined he was to make Bartowski Electronics a good place to work.

If she hadn't known Chuck, she would have been skeptical of all the gushing. But since she was getting to know him, she realized that the praise was entirely justified.

Chuck opened the passenger door of an old Prius. She raised an eyebrow. "Is this a first generation Prius?"

"Yep," he said, smiling at her. "It's still running great, so why get a new one?"

"So you're one of those kinds of CEOs," she said once they were both in the car.

"'Those kinds of CEOs'?" he asked, glancing at her as he started the car.

"The salt-of-the-earth, non-flashy, nice kind of CEO," Sarah said, watching as he pulled out of the parking garage and drove through the streets of Palo Alto. "Not the robber baron type."

He laughed a little. "I suppose so. I just . . . I can't be any other way. This is who I am."

His words struck a chord with her. It was so different from her training, from what she had been prepared for. To have a cover identity, to play a part and tell lies . . .

"Well, everyone thinks you're amazing," Sarah said, trying to keep the conversation going.

She could see the color rise in his face and she couldn't help smiling.

"I would have thought CEOs wear suits all the time," she said, looking at him.

"Maybe, but not me," Chuck said. "I only pull them out when I'm meeting with investors, board meetings, things like that. I like feeling comfortable at work. Especially when there's a big project and I'm in the office all the time."

"Makes sense," Sarah said. "I mean, I changed my clothes before I met you."

Chuck glanced over at her as he pulled into a parking lot. "You look great. You probably didn't need to change anything."

Now it was her turn to go pink. She was thankful Chuck was occupied with parking the car, so she could get herself under control. By the time he had opened her door, she felt fine.

"Thanks," she said as she stepped out of the car.

"You're welcome," he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "The restaurant's just over here. I hope you like it."

"You said this was your favorite-I'm willing to trust you," she said, grinning at him.

He ducked his head, then smiled back at her. "Okay." He walked with her, his long legs eating up the ground as they headed towards the restaurant.

As he had described it, the restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall. Part of a row of slightly dilapidated shops, Dragon Number One had dark red walls and harsh overhead lighting. But the smells coming from the kitchen overcame the lack of ambiance.

"Okay?" Chuck asked.

She nodded. "I'm starving and it smells amazing in here."

Chuck laughed and stepped up to the hostess stand. Within a few moments, they were seated at a somewhat wobbly table in a back corner, holding large laminated menus.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, looking at him over the top of her menu.

"While I was at Stanford," he said, not bothering to look at his menu. "I came here every couple of days. Once I started working, though, I cut it down to once or twice a week." He grinned at her. "But I still have the menu memorized."

Sarah chuckled softly. "So what do you recommend?"

"Everything," he said.

"So you're not going to make it easy on me, then?" she asked, smirking slightly at him.

"Well, I'm going to have the hot and sour soup, followed by spicy sizzling shrimp," he offered.

Quirking an eyebrow, Sarah looked at him. "You like heat, then?"

He answered her with a shrug of his shoulders and a grin.

Returning to her menu, she started narrowing down her options. "How's the beef and broccoli?" she asked him.

"Really good," Chuck said. "The meat's cooked slowly, so it's nice and tender, while the broccoli is crunchy in a good way."

"I didn't know you were such a foodie," Sarah said, setting down her menu.

"I wouldn't go that far," Chuck said, tilting his head to one side. "But when I'm someplace I know, I want to share what I know."

She grinned at him. "Nice of you."

They fell into an easy conversation, talking about food and work and what had happened in the area while Sarah had been gone. She found herself relaxing and enjoying everything. How his eyes lit up when he was excited, how he argued his opinions gently, how he shared generously from his plate when their food arrived.

The food was even better than Chuck had promised, and between her own order and taking pieces from Chuck's plate, she felt incredibly full by the time their plates were cleared.

"Dessert?" he asked, a wide grin on his face.

Balling up her napkin, she threw it at him. "Don't even make me think about more food. How can you still be hungry?"

"My dad always said I had a hollow leg," he replied, before a cloud passed over his face.

Sarah noticed the phrasing: "my dad" instead of "my stepfather." She didn't know much about Chuck's biological father, other than he lived in Southern California and Chuck used to go visit him occasionally when they were growing up.

"Have you . . . have you seen your dad recently?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "Not for a few years. He . . . he's had some troubles, so he's been moving around, trying to-I don't know." Chuck rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't really want to talk about this, Sarah."

Biting her lower lip, she nodded. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," he said quickly. Too quickly. He fidgeted a bit with the teapot and his spoon, then looked at her. "Do you want to take a walk? Work off the food?"

She nodded and gave him a small smile, trying to make up for her gaffe. She picked up her purse and dug through it for her wallet.

"I've got this one," Chuck said softly.

Lifting her eyes to him, she opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. If they were just friends, going Dutch was how she had expected this dinner to end. But instead, she let him pay.

"Maybe I can pay next time?" she asked as she stood up.

Chuck's eyes widened slightly, as if he was surprised she was already talking about a next time. But he nodded. "Y-yeah. That would work."

"Okay," she said, settling her bag onto her shoulder and walking with him out of the restaurant. She looked around once they were outside, then up at him. "Where to?"

"Stanford's right over there," he said, gesturing across the street. "I thought we could walk around the campus a bit."

She smiled at him. "Sounds good to me."

"All right," he said, managing a small smile. They started walking, Sarah letting him take the lead since he knew where they were going. Once they were on the green, leafy campus, they walked in silence.

Sarah was grateful for the silence. It gave her time to organize her thoughts. Because she hadn't expected tonight to go like this.

This was feeling less and less like two friends spending time together and more and more like a date. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Was that what Chuck intended? Act like they were just friends and then change the plan without telling her? Or had she given him signals that this was actually a date?

It might have something to do with him coming out with his shirt half-buttoned and her unable to take her eyes off him, she admitted caustically. But she hadn't been able to help her reaction, she argued with herself. And it wasn't like she ogled him-she hadn't been able to see anything!

Maybe that was why she kept thinking about it. She looked down at her feet, trying not to blush. This was getting ridiculous. She needed to get them back on track. Resume the friendly conversation they had going during dinner, until she had stuck her foot in her mouth.

Looking over at Chuck, she saw his wrinkled brow and tense shoulders. She wracked her brain for something to talk about. "It-it's nice here," she said, sweeping her hand around them to indicate the campus.

Like he was coming out of very deep thought, it took Chuck a moment to respond. "Oh . . . yeah. Stanford has a beautiful campus."

She nodded in agreement. "Was that one of the reasons you came here?"

"I don't know. Kinda, I guess," he said, glancing at her. "I wanted to stay close to home, and I wanted to be challenged. So Stanford fit the bill."

"You sound like you miss it," Sarah said, hearing a nostalgic note in his voice.

"I do, somedays," Chuck said, scuffing his foot against the path. "I wish I had gotten my degree."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, moving a bit closer to him.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I was tired of running my company out of my dorm room. I thought I was ready to be an adult. Now I wish I had let myself stay here and get my diploma and . . . and put it all off for another year."

"Yeah," Sarah said softly, understanding where he was coming from.

The silence this time was a bit more comfortable, she thought. Less heavy, less fraught with something she didn't understand.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" she asks, looking up at him.

"Why Harvard?" he asked. "Actually, why Harvard and why the Sorbonne?"

Sarah took a moment to remember back to being eighteen, to deciding where she was going to spend the next four years of her life. The first big decision she had ever made. "Well . . . it's Harvard, you know?"

Chuck grinned a little and nodded. "But more than just its reputation, why there?"

"It was on the East Coast. I'd get to see snow. Oh, did I see snow," she said, smiling as she remembered the winters in Boston. "And . . . and they wanted me. You know? Harvard University admitted me. They thought Sarah Walker was something special."

The look he gave her was full of warmth. It made her feel even better than she had when she received the letter that began "The Admissions Department of Harvard University is pleased to inform you . . ."

"And the Sorbonne?" he asked, lighting nudging her with his elbow.

"It's ironic I went there, since it was about preparing for a job with Skylark," she admitted. "But I think I knew I needed more time to figure out what I wanted."

Although she couldn't tell him that she hadn't really gone to the Sorbonne, the truth was that the CIA's recruitment offer and the years of training had served the same purpose. And it had let her find what she really wanted to do with her life.

"Skylark's loss is my gain," Chuck said. "Or, um, I mean, Bartowski Electronics's gain."

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "That was some Freudian slip there." She knew she was teasing him in a way that was more like a date than a friend. But she just couldn't let that one go.

With a groan, he shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, do you want some ice cream?"

How had no woman snapped him up yet? Sarah grinned. "I'd love some ice cream."

XXX

When she opened the door to the apartment, her father looked at her from his chair. "Hi, darlin'."

"Hi, Dad," she said, kicking off her heels and dropping down on the couch. She looked at the TV and squinted, trying to see the details of the baseball game on the small TV. "What's the score?"

"Seven-three, Nats over the Giants," he said, sounding grumpy.

"It's only the seventh inning, they still have time to turn it around," she said.

"It's the ninth," Jack corrected her.

Sarah winced. "Sorry, Dad."

"That's why they play 162 games," he said, turning the sound down. "How was your date?"

"It wasn't a date, Dad," she said, clenching and unclenching her toes into the carpet.

"Huh, right," he said, glancing over at her. "You look pretty dressed up for a not-date."

"Chuck's just being nice since I don't really know anyone in the area and because otherwise I'd only have you to spend time with," Sarah said. "And you're too busy right now."

"I am busy. And besides, a pretty girl like you shouldn't feel like her dad is her only friend," her father conceded.

She shrugged. "So it's just about Chuck being nice. He's a nice guy."

Jack shrugged. "You have a good time?"

Should she tell him the truth? But then . . . what harm would come of telling her father how her evening had gone? So she nodded. "Yeah. I had a really good time."

Her father gave her a long look. Then he nodded and got up, crossing over towards her. "There's not a lot of nice guys out there, darlin'. I'm glad you had a good time." He kissed the top of her head. "See you in the morning."

"Good night, Dad," she called out after him softly, watching him walk down the hall.

It took her a moment to shift into the comfortable spot on the couch, but once she was curled up, she felt warm and safe. As the end of the baseball game played out, she let herself relive her "date."

The drive to the restaurant, dinner, the walk afterwards, ice cream, the drive back to Bartowski Electronics . . . it might have been a date. Maybe.

There was just something about Chuck, something that was quietly charming. It wasn't like Bryce, all flash and fire. No, Chuck was like smoke. Drifting, ephemeral, creeping up on you before you had even realized it.

She wrinkled her nose. That wasn't her best metaphor. But it was an apt one. Just because Chuck had sneaked up on her, though, didn't mean that it was a date. And just because he was charming and friendly and fun, it didn't mean she could let her guard down.

After all, she was investigating his company and as soon as she was done, she would be leaving California. And other than her father, she didn't want to have any ties to this place.

Shaking her head, Sarah got up off the couch and turned off the television. She padded back to her room, her heels in her hand, and got ready for bed. After such a good night, she thought she wouldn't have any problems falling asleep.

End, Chapter 3


	4. Chapter 4

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 4/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: Tons of thanks to Steampunk . Chuckster / victorianoir, for telling me about the location at the end of this chapter. The setting helps make the scene, so it's all thanks to her!

XXX

The departure of Bryce on his trip with Elizabeth happened without Sarah even noticing. It wasn't until the day after he left that she found out he was gone. But with his leaving, she felt a weight off her shoulders. She hadn't realized how much she had worried about running into him around the winery.

It let her focus on her work at Bartowski Electronics. Thanks to her position on the international licensing team, she could monitor the dealings that the company had with non-American firms. Any moment she could spare from her regular duties, she was reviewing whatever contracts and agreements she could access. At some point, she might need to go beyond her current security level, but there was plenty to keep her busy for now. Of course, it might not be wise to tie herself to such activities, but she had confidence in her ability to cover her tracks if needed.

For now, she counted on her limited free time to protect her. Because she was very busy evaluating the contracts that came her way. Bartowski Electronics was well-run and ambitious, which meant they were expanding as quickly as they could. And that made the whole finance department very busy.

Although this might just be a cover job, Sarah wanted to do a good job. If nothing else, it would make it easier for her to acquire the information she needed.

It didn't take long for her to spot some irregularities. If she didn't know better, it would seem that the company had a leak of some sort-a mole feeding information to an outside company or agency. But it was just an instinct. She didn't have nearly enough evidence to prove there was a mole, and if there was, why hadn't Bartowski Electronics suffered from such an attack? Usually, a company in this position would see a hit to their bottom line or become subject to regulatory action, but nothing like that had happened so far.

Sarah didn't know what was going on, but she was determined to stop anything bad from happening to this company. It would just take some time and some focus. The focus was hard to come by, though. Because it hadn't taken long for word to get out about her friendship with Chuck, and that led to a lot of curious people walking by her cubicle.

As often as she said that she was just friends with Chuck, it didn't seem to matter. Everyone at Bartowski Electronics thought the only thing their boss lacked was a woman to make him happy. Fortunately, that belief was eclipsed by their desire to keep Chuck from feeling embarrassed. So whenever Chuck walked through the building with her and they saw other employees, everyone treated Chuck the same. No teasing, no jokes about him spending time with Sarah. Such treatment did not extend to Sarah when she was alone, though.

She didn't mind. She knew what she had with Chuck. They really were just friends.

Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was well past six on this Thursday evening. Leaning back in her chair, she stretched her arms over her head, then stood up and finished her stretch. She didn't have any plans tonight, and she was looking forward to having a quiet dinner and a bubble bath. The one downside to prettiness was all the maintenance. There were days she missed her ponytail and glasses.

With a small grin, she picked up her bag and pulled her phone out. Instead of her ancient phone, she now had a top-of-the-line phone from Bartowski Electronics. It had been one of the many perks she had received as a new employee. It was just nice to have a phone that actually worked.

Looking at the display, she saw that she had received a text from Chuck. _Double __feature __this __weekend__? __The __Stanford __is __showing__ 1950__s __sci__-__fi __films_.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard, replying in the affirmative. Seeing movies with a friend wasn't a big deal. She had seen lots of movies with John, and they had been friends. Admittedly, since he was gay there was no possibility of anything more, but he was still a man and she was a woman and they were friends and nothing else.

Sarah frowned. Why was this bothering her so much? Normally she laughed off all the jokes, ignored the nudges and winks that her friendship with Chuck had elicited. But there were moments like now when she was surprised by her reactions.

Maybe she was just tired. Tired and hungry and ready to face her long commute home. It was a good thing she wouldn't be staying in this area; the drive back and forth to Napa took a lot out of her. But with the sky-high housing prices in Silicon Valley, she would never be able to afford to live here.

Even with all the money he had made, Chuck winced whenever he mentioned the expense of his condo. Although he had admitted to her that it was more because he had let himself be talked into a luxury unit that was much too big for him.

"I really only use three rooms: the kitchen, the living room, and the master suite. But that leaves a den, two bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms, completely empty. I feel like a horrible person, wasting all that space, but every time I've thought about selling it, something comes up and I change my mind."

Chuck had explained all this to her at dinner yesterday, speaking around mouthfuls of delicious Italian food in another of the scruffy mom-and-pop restaurants he loved.

"You could get a roommate," Sarah suggested. "Or buy yourself a new condo and sublet the one you're living in now."

"That's what my accountant tells me to do. Because you can't go wrong investing in Silicon Valley property, apparently," Chuck said with a grin. "And I have considered it, but the last year has been so crazy that I never seem to have enough time to actually do anything." He paused to eat some more lasagna, then said, "And I like work too much to take time off to do something I don't enjoy, like house-hunting."

She laughed. "You know, most CEOs would have a personal assistant. Someone to do all that stuff."

"You seem to know an awful lot about CEOs," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Lemme guess: you didn't actually go to the Sorbonne, you spent the last two years researching a tell-all book by working for a bunch of CEOs."

For a second, she felt cold fear wash over her. Did Chuck know-? No, she was being paranoid. He was just joking around. So she quickly let out a laugh that sounded slightly strained to her ears. "Funny."

He rested his chin in his hand. "I bet you got really good at French. I'm awful at foreign languages. Can you say something in French?"

With a grin, she said, "Oui."

"And I walked right into that one," he said, laughing and returning to his food.

The buzzing of her phone shook her out of her memory. Looking down, Sarah saw she had gotten a text back from Chuck.

_Great__! __I__'__ll __get __the __tix__-__meet __you at __theatre__ 3__pm __Sat__?_

She quickly texted back to confirm the details, then put her phone in her purse and headed to the elevator. It wasn't until she was stepping into the parking garage that she realized she had a huge smile on her face and an extra spring in her step.

It wasn't a date. It was just two friends making plans for the weekend.

Sarah forced herself to stop smiling as she slid into her rental car and began driving back to the winery.

XXX

Saturday dawned overcast and cool for June. It was the perfect weather for a movie, Sarah thought as she did her makeup. Today she'd gone for a casual look: jeans and a periwinkle blue hooded sweatshirt, with her hair done up in a bun that was supposed to look sloppy and thrown-together. Of course, it had taken her twenty minutes to achieve that, but she didn't want to look like she was trying that hard.

Taking one last look at herself, she checked the time and started hurrying. She didn't want to be late meeting Chuck, and it was always hard to know what the traffic from Napa to Palo Alto would be like. Luck, and her CIA driving course, helped her get to the parking garage near the theater with plenty of time.

The soles of her sandals flapped softly against the ground as she walked to the theater. As she approached, she spotted Chuck immediately, leaning against the wall as his thumbs flew over some kind of portable game player. She walked closer to him but stayed as silent as possible, waiting for him to notice her.

He glanced at her, then jumped. "Sarah!" He fumbled his gadget, managing to hold on to it. "Hi!"

Sarah grinned at him. "Hi. I didn't want to interrupt you."

"No, no, it's okay," he said, sliding the player into the back pocket of his jeans. He adjusted his Dodgers cap and smiled at her. "How are you doing today?"

"I'm good," she said. "Slept in . . . had brunch with my dad."

Chuck's face brightened. "Yeah? You're getting to spend some time with him?"

"Yeah, he's managing to fit me in," she said with a laugh. "How about you?"

"I've been looking forward to today," he said. He looked like he was going to say more, but the tinny notes of a cell phone ringtone cut him off. Chuck reached into his pocket. "That's me-gimme a sec." He walked a few steps away from her, his back to her as he talked on his phone.

That gave Sarah a chance to really look at him. It amazed her that he was able to find jeans to fit his long legs. Paired with a faded red t-shirt and his ball cap, it wasn't that different from his work look, but was still clearly something that was for weekends. It was a good look.

After a few moments, he walked back over to her. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's okay," she said. Giving in to an urge, she reached out and lightly flicked at the bill of his cap. "How do you not get abuse hurled at you, wearing a Dodgers cap up here in Giants country?"

"Dunno," he said, grinning at her. "But I don't."

"Must be your winning personality," Sarah teased.

"Or they think that because I'm tall, I'm tough," Chuck said, his eyes dancing.

She couldn't help laughing. "Hmm, yes, that must be it," she said. Sarah gestured towards the theater. "Are you ready to go on in?"

"We're waiting for some friends of mine. I invited them so you could meet them. They should be here-oh, there they are."

Chuck stepped away and waved to a clump of people walking down the sidewalk, leaving Sarah to gape at him. What-why-

Before this turn of events had fully sunk in, Chuck was introducing her to his childhood friend Morgan, a girl he knew from Stanford called Jill, and two men she recognized from Bartowski Electronics named Greg and Brad. She smiled and shook hands with everyone, acting friendly while she tried to work out what was going on.

Sarah didn't understand why he had invited his friends along, especially without telling her first. Was that something normal that happened with friends-you invited other people along, everyone just mixing together into a big group? She wasn't sure. But she shouldn't be annoyed, she thought as Chuck lead everyone into the theater, laughing and joking. One of the goals of spending time with Chuck was for her to get to know people in the area. That was probably why he had made today into a group outing. It was nice of him.

But this meant she wouldn't have any time with just him. It was important for her investigation to talk to Chuck about the potential for a mole. She had planned to get into a conversation about industrial espionage and how Bartowski Electronics protected their research and development. But now, she wouldn't have that chance.

And when she saw Chuck give Jill a hug, she had to bite her lip and find something to distract herself. She ended up talking with Morgan about his friendship with Chuck as they all got their popcorn and found some seats in the theater. Through some maneuvering, she managed to nab a seat by Chuck, with the guys from Bartowski Electronics on her other side. Beside Chuck was Jill and Morgan.

With all the socializing, it wasn't until the organist had started playing, just before the start of the movie, that Chuck turned to her. "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I invited some people along."

"No, it's okay . . . I was just surprised," Sarah said, trying to sound like she wasn't bothered.

Chuck winced a little. "Sorry. It kind of all happened this morning. You really don't mind, do you? Because as much as I like all these people, we could break up into smaller groups and find separate seats . . ."

Looking up at Chuck, she got the feeling that it really did matter to him if she was upset about this situation. That if she minded, he would make her feel more comfortable by cutting back on his time with his friends.

It was so unbelievably sweet. She gave him a small smile. "No, I don't mind. It's okay, this is good."

He gave her a bright smile. "Okay, great. I hope you like the movies."

The lights dimmed before she could say anything, so she just smiled and nodded back to him.

Leaning back against her seat, Sarah faced the screen and resolved to enjoy herself. It was sweet of Chuck to help her meet people. Although it interfered with her assignment, she couldn't risk making any mistakes by moving too quickly. And it wasn't like she was expected to work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She needed down time like anyone else.

But as she watched the movies, she found herself glancing over frequently to see how Chuck was reacting to the movie. And whether he was talking to Jill.

XXX

By the end of the second movie, Sarah discovered that Chuck's friends were all very nice and seemed interested in talking to her. In between the first and second movie, she had chatted with Greg and Morgan, listening to them talk about video games. After the second movie, Jill had come over and complimented her hair. They had all exited the theater in a group, talking for a few minutes before people began drifting away.

To her surprise, suddenly she was alone with Chuck. It happened without her realizing it; one minute everyone was there and the next, it was just the two of them.

He looked down at her, looking a bit nervous. "Do you want to grab something to eat? Or do you need to get back to Napa?"

Why was he nervous? She looked at him curiously. "No, I have the time . . . is everything okay?"

"Just something Morgan said," Chuck said. "You're sure about dinner?"

Now that he mentioned it, she remembered that right after the second movie, she had seen Morgan and Chuck talking, with a lot of gesturing. And Chuck had looked over at her, but once her eyes had connected with his, he had looked away.

Sarah reached out and touched his upper arm lightly. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'd love to get some food. Something more filling than popcorn," she said, smiling up at him and trying to get him to smile back. To relax and be Chuck.

A quicker, weaker version of his normal bright smile appeared on his face, then he nodded. "Okay, let's do this. I mean, let's get some food. How hungry are you? There's a _bahn __mi_ place down the street."

"Mmm," Sarah said. "You had me at Vietnamese sandwiches."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Okay. This way." He started walking, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. She took a few quick steps to catch up with him, trying to figure out something to say.

"Did you like the movies?" she finally asked.

"Huh? Oh, the movies. Yeah, I did. I mean, I've seen them before, but-you know. On TV," he said, before taking a deep breath. "Sorry."

"What are you sorry about?"

Chuck gave her a long look. "For being all distracted. It's just . . ."

When he didn't complete his sentence, Sarah was ready to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he spilled his guts. Not that she didn't know better methods of doing that, but she just wanted to know what was bothering him.

Grabbing his arm, she pulled him away from the foot traffic on the busy sidewalk, until they were up close to the display window of a chocolate store. She moved to face him. "Okay, you need to tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering-" Chuck clamped his lips shut, obviously feeling the full force of the glare she directed at him. He sighed and pulled off his baseball hat, running his fingers through his mashed-down curls before replacing his cap. "Morgan's one of my best friends, even though I only ever saw him during summers. This is the first time he's come up here in over two years, because I've been too busy to see him. But he still knows me, you know?"

She didn't really know, but she nodded so he would keep talking.

"So when he says something, I pay attention," Chuck said. "And what he said today . . . it's kinda rattling my cage a little. I'm sorry-I'm probably not good company right now. Maybe we can just have a rain check on dinner."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't mind if you're quiet, but . . . but I'd like to have dinner with you."

Chuck's eyes, which had been darting around, locked onto hers. "You would?"

If Chuck was anyone else, she would have replied sarcastically about how she only had dinner with people she didn't like. But something about him seemed so fragile at this moment that she held back her instinct. Instead, she lightly rested her hand on his forearm. "I would. Since you bought the tickets for the movies, I owe you dinner. And besides, I've barely talked to you today."

Which meant she hadn't gotten any information for her assignment, she told herself. It didn't have anything to do with enjoying her conversations with Chuck.

"That's true . . ." he said slowly.

"So come on," she said, turning with her hand still holding his arm, leading him down the street. "Let's get some dinner, and you can tell me about the first time you saw _The __Day __The __Earth __Stood __Still_ and _Forbidden __Planet_, and I can ask you about your friends and everything."

"Okay, okay!" Chuck said, matching her pace. He bent the arm she was holding, so her hand slipped into the crook of his elbow. "I'm warning you, though, I can eat my weight in _banh __mi_."

Her fingers, pressed up against his bare skin, immediately felt a good twenty degrees warmer than the rest of her. But she tried to ignore that. "Are you saying you're hungry?" She adopted a bored expression. "How shocking."

Chuck ducked his head, clearly holding back a snort of laughter, and Sarah felt a wave of pride. She'd managed to help him deal with a problem, like a friend would do. It was nice, knowing that she was the reason he was laughing now.

She knew what she should be doing. How she should be working him for intelligence, getting him to tell her things. If she was going to protect his company, she needed that information. But . . . but she liked spending time with him. Especially when it was just the two of them.

There was still plenty of time. She could afford to have dinner with Chuck and laugh at his jokes and have fun.

"So just what do you want to know about my friends?" he asked her as they approached the restaurant. He moved his arm to open the door of the sandwich shop, her hand falling away from his skin.

"How did you meet Morgan?" she asked, walking in before him. "Oh, and just what's up with you and Jill?" She looked at him over her shoulder, arching her eyebrow.

By the way he turned red and spluttered, Sarah knew she had hit pay dirt. She started preparing a list of questions, wanting to know exactly what he thought about the pretty brunette, how well they knew each other, and just how they were close enough to hug when Chuck had never hugged her. Because friends hugged each other, obviously.

So while there were still plenty of questions about the business practices of Bartowski Electronics left to be answered, she focused on Chuck tonight. By the end of the night she knew all about Chuck's friendship with Jill, from his crush on her, their one catastrophic date, and the decision they had made to just be friends.

And if, in the back of her mind she was comparing the details of their relationship to Chuck and Jill's, that was her little secret.

XXX

Somehow, that Saturday double feature and dinner date marked a change in their friendship. On Monday, Chuck walked into the Finance department with a stack of pizzas for everyone. One of her coworkers had mentioned that Chuck usually bought lunch for a different department each Monday, and that day was Finance's turn. She didn't get much time to talk with him, but he did ask if she wanted to have dinner the following night.

On Tuesday, she found herself taking her hair out of the bun she had worn it in during the day to shake out her blonde waves while applying an extra layer of lipstick. When she walked into his office, his eyes widened slightly when he saw her, sending a shiver up her spine. But by the time they reached the tiny Thai restaurant for dinner, they were talking about music. Chuck couldn't believe she didn't have a favorite band.

"Concerts are my one big splurge," he said, once again holding open the door of the restaurant for her. "Last year, I went to New York and London, just for concerts. Flew there, saw the show, flew back."

"I like music just fine," she said. "I just never go see concerts. What's the point in paying all that money for the band to recreate the CD when I could just stay at home and listen to the CD?"

She knew enough about him to know she was winding him up, so she was pleased and amused when he spluttered that it wasn't the same at all. Chuck spent the rest of the night explaining, in his own way, just how wrong she was. And unlike with anyone else, she didn't feel belittled or embarrassed by his explanations.

When she woke up on Wednesday, though, Sarah knew she had to get her real job back on track. She really needed to get him talking about Bartowski Electronics. And although he had mentioned a project he was working on-a project that was so important he was returning to the office after their dinner to keep working-he hadn't shared just what he was working on. So she started making plans.

It only took two phone calls to put her plan in motion. First she called Alice and asked when Chuck would be free for lunch. Chuck's assistant not only gave her the details but fudged Chuck's schedule, putting him down for a 1:30 meeting that could not be cancelled. Then Sarah called in an order to Dragon Number One, to be delivered to her desk at a quarter after one.

Five minutes early, Sarah headed up to Chuck's office. After giving Alice her steamed dumplings-Sarah's offered reward for Alice's help-Sarah quickly looked down at herself, making sure she looked all right, then knocked on the door to the inner office.

"Enter!" Chuck called out, sounding distracted.

Stepping into his office, Sarah saw Chuck sitting at his desk, leaning in close to one of his monitors. His hair, even from the back, looked like a wild mess of curls, as if he had been running his hands through it all morning. Several cans and mugs were spread out over his desktop, like he had been there for a long time.

"Come up for air," she called out, carrying the bags of food over to the small table and chairs so Chuck could get some sunlight while he ate.

"Huh?" he said, looking over at her before realizing what was going on. A smile lit up his face. "Is that Chinese?"

"Delivered straight from Dragon Number One," she said. "Perfect for people who, according to their assistant, worked through the night and need food before they drop."

Chuck stood up and stretched, displaying all of his six foot four inches. Instead of watching him, Sarah turned and started pulling containers out of the bags. "This project is kicking my ass," he said, joining her at the table. "You're a lifesaver for bringing me lunch."

His offhand compliment made her smile. "When I phoned Alice this morning and told her my plan, she said she would have gotten you some food. But she thought I'd have more success in actually getting you to eat."

He grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, probably." He took a long swallow from a bottle of water before picking up a pair of chopsticks and digging into a large box of shredded pork with hot pepper sauce.

Sarah drew one leg underneath herself as she nibbled at some sesame chicken. "What are you working on?"

"One of my big goals is creating a cell phone that works for people in developing countries," he said. "Not just affordable, but reliable. Going beyond the traditional materials, because lots of those countries have environmental conditions that make cell phones break down more frequently."

"That's a good goal," Sarah said. "I took an Economics of Developing Nations class and we talked about that very subject."

"Yeah, it's a big problem that most companies aren't really dealing with. Apple and Nokia and Samsung, they just want to find a way to build a cheaper phone with cut-rate materials. I wanted to start from scratch. Completely redesign the phone so it'd work in places no normal cell phone would work."

She paused and looked at him. "Seriously? Isn't that hugely expensive?"

"Yeah. But it's worth it. We've been running at a loss on the project because I feel so strongly about this approach," Chuck said, wiping his mouth with a napkin and sipping some water. "But it looks like it's going to pay off."

"How?" she asked cautiously, her mind processing what he was saying with what she had learned from reviewing Bartowski Electronics's financial records.

He looked at her curiously. "You really want to know?"

How to respond to his question? She adopted a nonchalant attitude. "I do work here. I'd like to know what's happening with the company, beyond the numbers I see on spreadsheets."

"Good point," he said with a grin. He leaned towards her. "The project I'm working on is a patent application. One that helps make this new phone viable, because a bunch of companies besides us are bound to want to use the technology. And that means licensing agreements and royalties."

"It does," Sarah said, a big piece of the puzzle falling into place. She smiled at Chuck. "That's really great news."

Chuck grinned at her. "Yeah. I'll just be glad when I can get this application done."

Sarah ate a piece of chicken as she pondered her next question. "Why are you doing the application, instead of the R&D department?"

"This is my baby," Chuck said, leaning over and stealing a piece of her chicken with his chopsticks. "R&D is great, but I just haven't been able to trust anyone else with this one."

For the next few minutes, they both focused on eating. But while Chuck was simply filling his stomach, Sarah was evaluating what she had just learned. If he was patenting something, it could yield millions, if not billions, of dollars. Any company that was the slightest bit dishonest would love to get their hands on that kind of technology. It would explain why Bartowski Electronics had been targeted by the Chinese. And it gave her something to pass along to her contact in San Francisco.

She knew that in this situation, she should find some way to figure out precisely what Chuck was working on. Get access to his files somehow, make copies and photographs, and send it all to the CIA. But that would mean violating his trust, violating his friendship. Biting her lower lip, Sarah felt herself shy away from such an idea. There had to be another way to find out what he was patenting. Before she risked jeopardizing her position here, she would exhaust all her options.

"So, to change the subject," Chuck said, his voice breaking into her thoughts, "I have a question for you."

"What's up?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

He cleared his throat. "I'm going to be tied up with this project for the rest of the week. But I was wondering if you'd like to do dinner out in Napa on Saturday night. Bryce comes home on Sunday and Mother asked that I come home for the weekend. Welcome him back and all that. So since I'll be in the area, I thought . . . I thought we might do something special."

"Special?" she repeated, feeling surprised by his question.

"Yeah," he said, running a hand through his hair-something she had started to recognize as a nervous tic. "To make up for not being around for the rest of the week, and . . . and just doing something a little nicer than normal."

By something "a little nicer than normal," did he mean something that was more like a date? Because this felt a lot like Chuck was asking her out on a date. He wasn't calling it friends hanging out together or grabbing some dinner. This sounded like a date.

"I-" Her voice broke a little and she swallowed. "I'd really like that."

The wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothed out and he smiled at her. "Great. I'll take care of everything. I'm not sure what time, but I'll text you once I've made the reservation. I can pick you up at Skylark."

"Okay," she said, unable to keep the smile off her face. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"A very wise, very pretty woman once told me to get used to surprises. I'm passing that advice along to you," Chuck said, smiling at her even as the tips of his ears turned pink.

Sarah giggled, feeling slightly nervous. She reached out and took a piece of his lunch, then coughed from the spiciness of the sauce.

With a grin, Chuck pushed a bottle of water towards her. "Nice to see I'm not the only one who does things like that."

It shouldn't be possible to laugh, cough, and drink water at the same time, but somehow she managed it. "Still want to do something special with such a mess?" she finally said, wiping some water from her lower lip.

To her surprise, his eyes went soft and he didn't say anything. He just smiled at her, then nodded.

And Sarah realized that he really meant it. She felt very warm now, and it had nothing to do with the spicy food.

XXX

Picking out what to wear when you were going out to dinner with a friend who might consider said dinner as a date was a tricky proposition. Sarah went through her whole closet on Saturday morning, trying to decide what to wear. She didn't want to be underdressed, but she also didn't want to be overdressed.

Thankfully, Chuck's text helped clear up the dress code confusion at least.

_Pick __you __up at__ 7:30. __Fancy __but __not __formal __dress__. __See __you __later_.

It felt oddly restrained for Chuck, but maybe she was just reading more into a simple text than she should. It didn't stop her from reading it over several times before returning to her closet. She had two cocktail dresses: one short, purple and sexy and the other short, black and elegant. After a half hour of vacillating, she finally picked the purple dress and headed for the shower.

Even with taking extra time for her hair and makeup, Sarah was ready twenty minutes before Chuck was due to pick her up. Feeling somewhat nervous, she stepped out into the living room, feeling grateful that her father was running an event for Skylark Wines tonight. Not wanting to wrinkle her dress, she didn't sit down. She sipped some water, walked around to make sure her heels were comfortable enough, and rechecked her makeup.

Sarah felt herself flush when she met her eyes in the mirror. At some point soon, she was going to have to figure herself out. John had always said that the best spies were the ones who knew themselves. For the last two weeks, she hadn't looked very closely at herself. She had been hesitant, almost scared, to do so. But if she wanted to complete her assignment, if she wanted to protect Chuck and his company, she had to wake up from this dream. Stop hiding and look at what she felt and thought.

A knock on the door made her pull away from the mirror. "Just-just a minute!" she called out. She snatched up her clutch and headed towards the front door, taking deep breaths to keep her heart from racing. Gripping the doorknob, she opened the door slowly.

Her breath caught a little at the sight of Chuck in a suit. He looked good. Tall and lean, his hair tamed somewhat but still begging for someone's hands to run through his curls.

He took one look at her, his eyes widening, and then there was a muted clunk.

Looking down at the floor, she saw Chuck's keyring resting on the doormat. She slowly looked up, meeting his eyes. "You-you dropped your keys," she said, her voice coming out soft and breathy.

Chuck blinked, which seemed to snap him out of his daze. "Um, yeah," he said. He bent down and scooped them up before rising to his full height, looking at her again. "You look-wow. Gorgeous." He swallowed. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," she said softly. "You look wonderful yourself."

The way he flushed made her want to ruffle his hair. Because she'd never seen a man blush like Chuck did, and it was endearing and sweet and adorable.

She was glad she was still holding on to the door, since she needed something to support herself. Because she was in trouble. Big time.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, licking her lips.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he said, giving her a quick smile full of disbelief.

Returning his smile, she waited for him to step back so she could step out of the apartment. It took him a moment to realize why she wasn't moving, and then he moved quickly, taking three steps back.

This was so strange and wonderful and awkward. Taking a deep breath, she closed the door behind her. "This is feeling . . ."

"Weird?" Chuck said, looking sheepish. "But not bad weird, I think."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah. Good weird."

"Well, let's see if we can get this to just good," he said, offering her his arm.

Sliding her hand into the place it seemed to fit perfectly, it was all she could do not to blush herself. "Yeah, let's see."

"There's just one thing," Chuck said, as he led her down the stairs to the winery offices. "You can't tell anyone here where we went for dinner."

That made her laugh a little. "Really? And why's that?"

"Because my mother might disinherit me if she found out."

"Hmmm," Sarah said. "That will make my daily post-workout breakfast with your mother very awkward."

Chuck let out a half-snort, half-yelp of laughter, which made Sarah laugh very hard.

"Oh, okay, I'm normally much less of an idiot than I am right now," Chuck said, following her out to his car.

"You're a lot of things, Chuck, but you're not an idiot."

He lifted his eyebrows as he opened the passenger door for her. "Yeah?"

Nodding, Sarah slid into the car, moving carefully in order not to show all her legs to him. To Chuck's credit, he didn't seem to be looking. Which made her like him even more.

"So you're not going to give me any hints?" she asked once he got into the car.

"Nope. Like I said, surprise." He grinned at her and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

She leaned back against the seat, watching him drive. Normally, she didn't like being surprised. She was a spy: she was the one who did the surprising. But having Chuck take charge . . . it was kind of nice.

It would be interesting if he did manage to surprise her.

XXX

A castle.

He was taking her to a castle. A straight-out-of-a-fairy-tale castle.

Sarah stared out the car window, not sure she could believe her eyes. Then she turned and looked at him. "What is this place?" she asked.

His smile was wide, bright, and just a little bit smug. "It's called Castello di Amorosa. It's supposed to look like a Tuscan castle, because the owner likes castles."

"It's like something out of a Disney movie," she said, turning back to keep looking as he drove them through the grounds.

Chuck didn't say anything until he had parked the car. "I said I wanted to do something special. This seemed to fit the bill."

"And then some," she said, looking at him and feeling a little shy. Because . . . because he had brought her to a castle. And she knew she was a grown woman and shouldn't be so swayed by silly romantic fantasies, but she was. She was totally swayed.

Giving her a soft, happy smile, Chuck stepped out of the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to her. She felt a fluttering in her stomach as she slid her hand into his, getting out of the car carefully. "How did you find out about this place?"

"Funny story," Chuck said, holding her hand loosely instead of letting go as she expected. "My senior prom was scheduled to be held here, but my mother threw a huge fit over 'her son darkening the door of one of her competitors'. So I couldn't go." He gave her a lopsided smile. "Not that there was much chance I was actually going to go to prom."

"Me, neither," she said. "After all, I didn't look like this back then." She gestured to herself.

He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged. "Just shows how dumb people can be. And I'm including myself in that group."

Sarah dropped her gaze. "I just remember back how it was when I was growing up, and . . . and you were always around, but I never got to know you, either."

"I guess we've been fixing that, haven't we?"

Lifting her head, Sarah met his gaze. Then she smiled softly. "Yeah."

Chuck grinned back. "C'mon, let's go. I bet the inside is even more amazing."

Nodding, Sarah walked with him to the entrance of the castle, trying not to notice just how good it felt to hold his hand.

Once they were inside, it was as if they were royalty. They were escorted to their table, tucked away in a dimly-lit corner with a view overlooking the vineyards. The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky a pinky-orange. The light breeze sent the cooling air swirling across Sarah's cheek.

"The winery has a tasting dinner, each dish paired with the appropriate wine," Chuck said, gazing at her over the table set with fine china and linen, candlelight providing the only illumination. "Since I still don't know much about wine, I thought that was safer."

Sarah laughed softly. "I don't know much, either. I actually only started liking wine last year." She grinned at him. "So that made your gift a few years ago not such a good choice."

His brows furrowed until he remembered. "God, I was so lame. I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry," she said, resting her chin in her hand and gazing at him. "At least you noticed me. Even when I tried to be invisible."

"Not enough," he said. "We could have spent all these years being friends."

Was that all he wanted to be with her? Friends? She thought she heard a slight catch in his voice just before he had said the word. But maybe she had imagined it. Instead, she said, "But here we are now."

Chuck's big, happy smile flashed across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah. Here we are."

She had to smile back. Before her smile became toothy and ridiculous, she looked down at the menu for the tasting dinner, taking in what they would be served tonight. "I'm really going to enjoy this dinner, even with what I'll need to do to work it off."

"I'll probably have to start exercising after tonight," he said, patting his stomach.

Rolling her eyes, she groaned. "Don't tell me with all you eat that you don't have to work out."

His eyes sparkled. "Okay, then. I won't tell you."

It was so easy to talk with him-to laugh with him. It made it so easy to ignore all the things she should be doing. She knew when she had that self-evaluation, one of the issues she would have to deal with was how distracted she had been on this mission. Perhaps she was holding herself to too high a standard, but it didn't change the fact that Chuck Bartowski was a charming, smart, handsome, wonderful man. And he made her feel like a princess.

And she liked how he made her feel.

"Do you have any flaws?" she asked, knowing her voice sounded much too playful but not really caring.

"Hmmm," he said, looking thoughtful. "I'm not sure if I should tell you. Because once I get started, I might not be able to stop."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Now you've whet my curiosity."

"I guess we'll have to see if you're a cat or not," Chuck said, grinning and gesturing towards their waitress and sommelier, standing at the ready with their first course and the wine to go with it.

Laughing, Sarah nodded to the staff, letting them set down the plates and glasses. "I don't know if anyone has ever compared me to a cat," she said.

"To first times, then," Chuck said, lifting his glass.

She lifted her glass, looking at him. "To first times," she said, lightly tapping their glasses together. Then she sipped her wine, feeling the sparkle in the wine spread through her body.

Or maybe it was more than the wine. Maybe it was this whole night. Maybe it was mostly Chuck.

XXX

Everything had been perfect. The food and the wine, the setting, and the company. She hadn't been on many dates, but this might-no, this was the best date of her life.

As Chuck drove them back to Skylark, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. How could she put into words how she felt? How grateful she was to Chuck for giving her such a wonderful night?

She had been careful with her drinking, but she had enough wine to feel loose and relaxed. Like she could do anything, be anyone. It was like she was in a dream from which she wouldn't wake up.

But she would wake up, she admitted with a soft sigh. Tonight had been everything her secret inner romantic could want, as much as she had tried to squish that romantic side down into nothingness. But tomorrow, she would still be Sarah Walker, agent of the Central Intelligence Agency and dating a man whose company she was investigating. Maybe dating. She didn't know what was going on now, if they were still friends, if Chuck wanted more, if she wanted more.

Now she knew why she didn't get drunk on wine: it made her think.

"Sarah?" Chuck's voice was soft. "Are you okay?"

Turning her head, she looked over at him. "I'm fine. Just . . . just a bit lost in thought." She managed a small smile. "All the wine. Are you all right?"

Chuck nodded and lifted one hand, folding some of his fingers down. "I limited myself to one swallow from each glass of wine. Boy Scout promise."

"Were you a Boy Scout?" Sarah asked.

"Well . . . Cub Scout promise, then," Chuck said, giving her a lopsided smile. "I dropped out when I was eleven, right before I would have started the Boy Scouts, because I found out they discriminated against gay people."

"That was very sweet of you. And quite a stand for civil rights," she said, smiling at him.

He shrugged and smiled, not saying any more as he drove the rest of the way to the winery. When he pulled into the parking lot, Sarah felt her body tense a little. It was the end of their evening, and traditionally, after something this amazing, a girl would give her date a good-night kiss. But she didn't know what this was-what they were. She didn't know what to do.

Breathing slowly, she waited for him to open her door and help her out of the car again. Unlike before, he didn't hold her hand as he walked her to her door. She kept sneaking glances at him, trying to figure out what his thoughtful, slightly sad look meant.

At the door, Chuck paused and gave her a small smile. "This might make me sound very unobservant, but I hope you had a good time tonight."

Gazing up at him, she wondered if what he said was true. If he really didn't know how she felt. And if nothing else, she wanted him to know.

Sarah reached out and lightly rested her hand on his chest, touching the lapel of his jacket. "I had a wonderful time. This was one of the best nights of my life."

His eyes in the moonlight looked like amber. He stood so still as he looked at her, when normally he was all moving hands and big smiles. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. "I-I'm glad. Very glad."

Such a response-so very, very Chuck-made her smile softly at him. She leaned up on her toes, feeling him tense under her hand. At the last moment, she lost her nerve and turned her head, brushing a soft kiss over his cheek. "Good night, Chuck," she whispered.

Then, unable to be that close to him for any longer and not give in to what her body wanted, Sarah stepped away and hurried inside the winery office without waiting for his response.

End, Chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 5/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: There's a nod to somedeepmystery's great story, _Chuck __vs__. __the __Charade_, in this chapter. Reading that story helped give me the idea to rewrite Sabrina as a Chuck fic, so that tip of the hat is my way of thanking somedeepmystery for a great story.

Also, the science behind what Sarah discovers? Please don't look at it too closely. :-)

Finally, if you're enjoying this story, I'd love to hear that! Reviews are awesome.

XXX

After a long night of tossing and turning, punctuated by a few hours of sleep, the last thing Sarah Walker wanted was to be awakened at seven-thirty by the buzzing of her cell phone. She was more than half-tempted to just ignore it, but she didn't know which cell phone she needed to check: her Bartowski Electronics phone or the cell the CIA had provided her. So she dragged herself out of bed, her skin feeling sticky and clammy and her hair looking like a rat's nest.

Fortunately, it wasn't her CIA cell. Sarah then had to hunt for where she left her purse, finally locating it by her bedroom door. Digging out her other phone, she saw she had a missed call and a text. Both were from Bryce.

_Hey__, __gorgeous __stopping __by __spain __for __polo __ponies__. __Back __in __cali __next __week __dinner__? __Hope __chuckles __not __big __old __bore__. __Xoxo_

Sarah stared at the phone, feeling the sudden and inexplicable urge to throw it out the window. What kind of message was this? He hadn't sent her so much as a text to tell her he was leaving, let alone while he was gone, and now this?

It was quite possible Bryce wasn't even sure who he was texting, she thought as she dropped her phone on her dresser and padded back to bed. She slid back under the covers, trying to recapture sleep, but she knew it was futile. She was awake now, and her mind wasn't about to let her go back to sleep when there was so much she needed to figure out.

With a huff, Sarah rolled onto her back and kicked the covers off. All she wanted was to take a shower and then go back to bed, but she knew she couldn't do that. She had work to do.

Grumpily, she pulled herself out of bed and got dressed in her running clothes. She took the time to wash her face, removing a few traces of her makeup that she had missed last night. Her snarled hair she didn't bother with, except to pull it back and off her neck. Grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge, she left the apartment and jogged to the woods, focusing on pounding each footstep into the ground.

By the time she was under the cover of the trees, she was warmed up. So Sarah turned it loose, running as hard and as fast as she could.

The metaphor didn't escape her. If her life was a movie, this would be the pivotal "attempting to outrun her problems only to fail" moment. But her life wasn't a movie or a TV show or a fairy tale; it was just her life. And for now, there was just her feet hitting the ground, sweat rolling down her neck, and a scary fluttery feeling in her middle.

She had to stop hiding. And that meant facing things that made her life infinitely more complicated.

Because she might just be falling for Chuck Bartowski.

No. She was falling. Or could she have already fallen?

Drawing up, Sarah tried to catch her breath. She took a long drink of water, then made herself jog, keeping her muscles warm to prevent a cramp. The slower pace let her start examining her revelation.

It had only been two weeks. But in that time, she had spent a lot of hours with Chuck. Lunches and dinners, movies and walks. They had gotten to know each other very quickly. Could someone develop feelings for another person that fast? The only person she had ever felt like this about was Bryce, and that happened so long ago that she couldn't remember how it started.

And if she was honest with herself, how she used to feel about Bryce couldn't compare to what she was feeling now for Chuck.

Those feelings were like a giant lump in the middle of her chest, like a rock face she needed to scale in order to reach some emotional summit. But she wasn't quite ready to tackle that climb, so she skirted off to a side path.

Had her relationship with Chuck distracted her from her mission? So far, she hadn't received anything from her CIA contact; no word that would indicate she needed to speed up her work. She had to assume her work was acceptable up to this point. That she was gathering good intelligence and would be able to stop any enemy incursion into Bartowski Electronics.

But that didn't answer the question. Was the mission in trouble because of all the questions she had about her feelings for Chuck? Sarah had to admit that there were moments when she had opted for a more cautious approach, because the natural choice meant doing something that could negatively impact their relationship. Hacking the financial records, breaking into his office for the patent application . . . if she had gotten caught, not only would the mission have been jeopardized, but she'd have to try and explain herself to Chuck. And she didn't want him to look at her with confusion or disappointment or anger in his eyes.

She was compromised. The cardinal sin for a spy, and she had let this happen to her on her first mission.

Her mouth was dry, but two swallows of water wasn't enough to correct the problem. Taking a few deep breaths, she slowed to a walk.

Was this what she wanted? Being a spy, living in danger all the time, closing herself off so she could do her job? It was hard to say. She didn't know if she was really a spy yet. During her training, there had always been a safety net, even when she thought there hadn't been one. Even on solo assignments, she had been monitored, able to communicate with a handler when a problem cropped up. And on this assignment, when she was basically being herself . . . perhaps the lines were blurred and she hadn't been able to get into spy mode.

It was hard to say. Sarah didn't think she could judge if this career was the right choice for her yet. She didn't have enough data. She needed to go on more missions and really test herself. See how good she actually was, before she could decide.

But she knew a seed had been planted. The feeling that if working for the CIA wasn't the right choice, she could find something else. Maybe come back here-

Sarah shook her head. She couldn't think like that. When she finished this mission, she would go to the next assignment. She would leave California, Bartowski Electronics, and Chuck far behind. And she wouldn't be able to tell him why she was leaving. Not without causing a lot more questions.

Maybe . . . maybe it would be best if she broke things off with Chuck. Put her head down and get the job done, so she could leave without any entanglements.

The lump in her chest, all her unexplored feelings for him, got heavier and bigger with that thought. Taking a deep breath, she found a tree stump and sat down on it. She wouldn't be able to make her choice if she didn't climb that rock wall. So she closed her eyes and asked herself the big question.

Just what did she feel for Chuck?

Friendship, definitely. The time she had spent with Chuck had been full of jokes and laughter and easy conversation. They had rarely had any awkward moments, at least not ones that they hadn't been able to get past fairly quickly.

Even though some people would think she was damning him with faint praise, she thought Chuck was a good guy. He was kind and smart, hard-working and good to his employees. He was just . . . nice. And although she hadn't known him that well until recently, he had always been nice to her. Her transformation from ugly duckling to swan hadn't made him act differently towards her. Unlike Bryce. Unlike most men.

She pulled one of her legs up against her chest, her foot on the stump and her chin resting on her knee. Chuck wasn't flashy or charming in an obvious way. But he was charming. And handsome.

The image of him from last night, wearing a suit and looking at her in the moonlight, popped into her head. And like last night, she felt a little breathless. But what hit her even harder was remembering how he looked in jeans and a baseball hat. He was just so tall and lean, with warm, soft skin and lips that were always smiling. When she had kissed him last night, it had taken a lot of self-control to turn her head and kiss his cheek instead of his lips.

Sarah pressed her lips together. She liked his personality. She was attracted to him. He made her feel good, made her happy.

It was so obvious now. No wonder she had been hiding from her feelings-if she had taken a moment to consider what was going on, she would have to admit that she . . .

Almost before she realized it, she was up and walking back towards the winery office.

She had to end this. She couldn't risk herself anymore than she already had. And although this might hurt Chuck, if she let it keep going, she would hurt him more later. No, it was better to tell him that it'd be best if they stayed friends. And then do her best to be busy whenever he wanted to spend time together. It would let her finish this job and get out of California. Start her real career as a spy while pushing her feelings for Chuck down deep inside her.

Finding the words to explain her seeming change of feelings would be difficult, but-but she had time. She'd come up with a script and go into Chuck's office tomorrow evening, after work, and she'd just explain that dating her boss wasn't a good idea and she liked him too much as a friend to create that kind of problem for him. He would have to see the sense of that. And it would let her keep her feelings to herself.

Yes, that would work. It had to work.

XXX

As she approached Chuck's office, Sarah fidgeted a little with her clothes. She hadn't been sure what kind of outfit she should wear for this conversation. It wasn't something that had been covered in her training and she certainly didn't have any practical experience. After an hour of going through her wardrobe last night, she had decided on a pair of dark jeans, a lace-trimmed tank and a pale blue cardigan. She hoped she looked like a friend, not a girlfriend.

When she stepped into the outer office, Alice looked up and smiled widely. "Hi, Sarah. Go right on in. You're on Chuck's list."

"His list?" Sarah asked, feeling a bit confused.

"The list of people who don't need appointments to see him," Alice said breezily. "He added you this morning."

Sarah felt a chill settle over her. Was it too late? Should she have tried to talk to Chuck yesterday about all this? But she hadn't been ready then. It wasn't until lunch today that she had her speech fully planned. And being prepared was critical. So she had to hope this would work out.

Giving Alice her best attempt at a smile, Sarah stepped up to Chuck's office door and knocked, waiting to hear him call out "Enter!" before walking inside.

She hadn't been back in his office since last week, and there had been a dramatic change. Stacks of papers covered all the flat surfaces: mostly computer printouts, but also long rolls of blueprint paper. The conference table was covered in cell phone shells and littered with bits of wire and small circuit boards.

At his desk, Chuck was pounding on the keyboard. "One minute," he said, not taking his attention from the monitors.

Taking advantage of his preoccupation, she watched him. Took in how his hair was a mess, his t-shirt was thin and faded, and he had a piece of wire tucked behind his ear like it was a pencil.

This might be the last time she saw him. Saw him like this, at least, with his guard down, when he still liked her. She took a deep breath, bracing for the moment when he turned around.

He hit one last key emphatically, then pushed away from his desk and looked at her. His whole face lit up, like it was suddenly Christmas. "Hey!" He got up from his desk and walked over to her. "Sorry for the mess, when Bryce didn't show up yesterday I came back here and got to work and as you can see, I really went to town, and-"

She didn't know exactly what she looked like at this moment. If what she felt while listening to him bubble over with enthusiasm showed on her face. There must have been something, though, because he stopped mid-stream and tilted his head to one side, as if he was reviewing what he had just said. There was a flash of sadness, then he gave her a small smile. "I guess you're missing Bryce, huh?"

What? Why was he bringing up Bryce? It took her a moment to figure out what to say. "I . . . I suppose so . . . your mother must have been upset that he put off coming home."

"Yeah, she was," Chuck said, running a hand through his hair and making it puff up more. "Honestly, I don't know why she was surprised. But when Bryce called, I made sure to tell him that he should let you know about the change in his plans. I gave him your number-I hope that was okay."

Looking up at him, she wondered how someone so smart and so perceptive could be so wrong. So very, very wrong.

Sarah wanted to correct him. To tell Chuck that she hadn't thought of Bryce since he left, because one date with him had been enough to get him out of her system. It had been enough for her to realize that she had cast him as the perfect fairy-tale prince, based on his looks and his charm and his mystery. She had never gotten to know him, and he had no interest in getting to know her until she was pretty.

And even if she had thought about Bryce, Chuck had blotted him out. Just by being himself and not trying to be charming or seductive, Chuck had become the most charming, attractive man she'd ever met. And he seemed to have no idea that he was like that. Of just how special he was.

But if she told him that, she'd have to turn right around and hurt him. Maybe it was kinder to let him go on thinking that she still cared about Bryce. That Saturday night had been about moonlight and candlelight and wine, but now it was Monday and they were just friends.

Licking her lips, she nodded slowly. "Yes-yes, that's fine." She could only manage a small, tight smile. "Thanks, Chuck. That was really nice of you." She paused, wondering if she could deliver the final blow. Steeling herself, she reached out and patted his shoulder. "You're such a good friend."

Although he smiled back at her, she ignored his mouth and focused on his eyes. And that was where she saw just how affected he was by her words. Where she got the confirmation she hadn't realized she wanted to get.

Chuck liked her. As more than a friend. But because he thought she loved his half-brother, he would let himself be just her friend.

Was this supposed to hurt? She thought she had been prepared for the discomfort of this conversation, but the tables had been turned on her, making her neat little speech unnecessary. And now, instead of being the awkward discussion she thought they would have, it was heartbreaking.

A high-pitched buzz penetrated her thoughts. Chuck gave his head a shake and then walked over to his desk, picking up a phone. "Hello? Yeah, Alice, I know. I'll be ready to go in fifteen minutes. Thanks."

He hung up the phone and walked over to her. "It-it's good that you came by now, because I'm on my way out the door. And out of the country."

"What?" she said, staring up at him.

"I'm going to China for a week," he said, turning to gather some gadgets from his desk. "It came together over the last twenty-four hours. I'm flying out tonight, and I-I kinda have to get going if I'm going to make my flight."

Sarah blinked. She should be thinking about what a perfect opportunity this was. About how she could find out what Chuck had been working on, determine if this trip was part of some nefarious plot by the Chinese. But all she could think was that she would miss him.

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to delay you . . ."

"No, no, it's okay," he said, giving her a quick smile. She noticed it didn't really reach his eyes. He was trying to act like a friend. "I always prepare way too much for trips, so I've got time."

"Still, I should go," she said, gesturing over her shoulder towards the office door. "I-I hope you have a good trip."

She needed to act normal. Like she thought of him as the brother of the guy she was really interested in. So she smiled at him. "I guess you'll finally find out how authentic Dragon Number One is."

Somehow, he managed to laugh at her lame joke. "Yeah, lucky me. If I'm not trapped in meetings the whole time like I expect, I'll definitely try to find some real Chinese food." He looked at her for a long moment, then stepped forward and gave her a quick, impersonal hug. "Bye, Sarah."

If there had been a way, she would have stopped time at this moment. Just so she could have a minute to enjoy having his arms around her. But she couldn't, so there was just a fleeting sense of warmth and protection, before he pulled away. She did her best to sound happy for him. "Bye, Chuck."

Then she turned and practically scurried out of his office, fighting with everything she had not to turn and look back at him.

XXX

Now she knew, for the first time, what it was like to be a spy. To conceal her real emotions and feelings behind a mask. She had thought she knew how to do that. Her whole life, she had held back on what she felt. But it wasn't the same. This was nothing like being the girl she once was.

With Chuck gone, she threw herself into work. She came in early, she stayed late. She ate lunch at her desk, reviewing spreadsheets and analyzing reports. By Thursday afternoon, Patricia, the head of the department, had stopped by her desk and told her to ease up.

"You're working too hard. Is everything okay?" the older woman asked, looking at Sarah with kind, motherly eyes. Eyes that seemed to know too much.

Over the last few days, she had gotten better at lying, she thought. Sarah was able to smile at Patricia with ease as she pushed her glasses up onto the top of her head. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just trying to stay on top of everything."

Patricia patted her shoulder. "Everything will be there in the morning. I want you to leave early today."

She was ready to protest, but Patricia held up her hand. "I'm not listening. Go home, get some extra rest." She paused. "This isn't about Mr. Bartowski being gone, is it? Just because I'm the boss doesn't mean I haven't heard the gossip flying around."

Just hearing his name made her heart clench. But she kept the smile on her face, although she did let it dim a little. "I suppose you're right that I've been overdoing it," Sarah admitted. She turned and began closing down the programs on her computer, then glanced up at Patricia. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

Her boss smiled. "You're the same age as my daughter, and she's just started her first job, so I've kept my eye on you."

That was nice of her. Everyone here at Bartowski Electronics had treated her so well. And here she was, sneaking around behind everyone's backs. Sarah had to quickly turn back to her screen. "I'll be out of here in five."

"Have a good afternoon, Sarah."

Once Patricia left her cubicle, Sarah took a deep breath. She was leaving. But she would just come back later, once the office had cleared out.

Tonight was the night that she would make her way into Bartowski Electronics's files, looking for the patent application. She had to find that, to know what Chuck had been working on, what had sent him so suddenly to China, the very country who had sent agents into American tech companies.

Her late nights had not just been about doing paperwork. She now knew that by seven o'clock, the finance department was a ghost town. Other departments worked more flexible hours, but not finance. So she would conspicuously leave, then find something to do for the next few hours before returning to the building.

As she stood up, reaching into her desk drawer for her bag, her glasses slipped down, resting now on her eyebrows. Sarah moved them into position on her nose and walked out of the office, giving Patricia a small wave as she left and nodding to her coworkers.

Sarah was sure that as soon as she left, they would be talking about her. Wondering why she had suddenly stopped making much of an effort with her appearance, wondering why she was wearing glasses. Wondering about whether this had anything to do with Chuck.

With a small sigh, she hoisted her purse on her shoulder and headed to the parking garage. She wasn't quite sure what she would do with herself while she waited. It wasn't even four o'clock yet. The rumble of her stomach reminded her that her lunch had been a bag of chips from the vending machine-something that wasn't like her. She'd never been one to skip meals, especially not after her training had taught the importance of being in peak physical condition. But she just hadn't been hungry earlier.

At least that solved the question of what to do. She could get an early dinner, maybe take a walk, then come back to Bartowski Electronics.

Although she was craving Chinese food-in particular, the sesame chicken from Dragon Number One-Sarah forced herself to go to a generic chain restaurant in downtown Palo Alto. In her jeans and sweater, she almost felt like a college student. As she ate her sandwich, looking through the plate glass window at the front of the restaurant, she wondered what it would have been like if she had attended Stanford instead of Harvard.

She could have spent time with Chuck. Gotten to know him, maybe. Of course, by the time she was a freshman, he had already dropped out to work at his company, but . . .

Furtively, she looked around the restaurant, then reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She went through her texts and found the last one she had received from Chuck. It had arrived on Wednesday morning, when she was in a meeting. She had glanced down at her phone when it had vibrated, and picked it up just to see who the message was from. When she realized it was from Chuck, she almost dropped the phone.

It was incredibly rude, she knew, but she had to see what he said. She moved the phone under the table to shield her actions. On her second try, she managed to get the message opened.

_I __still __think __Dragon __Number __One __is __the __best__, __but __I __haven__'__t __told __anyone __here __that__._

And then, a picture started downloading. When it was fully loaded, she nearly laughed out loud, even as she felt incredibly sad. Because there was Chuck, smiling at the camera as he held up some food with his chopsticks.

Since her hands were hidden under the table and no one could see the picture, she let herself oh-so-lightly brush her thumb over his face. She wanted to sit there and complete dissect the photo. Look at it closely enough to see if his smile reached his eyes, try and figure out what he was eating, guess whether this picture was just for her or if he had sent it to other people. But she couldn't do that now.

In the last two days, she had spent lots of time looking at that photo. But she was no closer to answering the real question: did a man who wanted to be just friends with a woman act like this? Send a photo that reflected a shared joke, even when he thought she was in love with someone else?

It all made her head hurt. She didn't know what to think, so she shoved her phone into her bag and got up, heading out into the bright summer sunshine.

Her meal and her mooning hadn't taken nearly enough time. Aimlessly, she walked around, doing her best to keep her mind blank. She stopped by shop windows to look at shoes, she wandered into a bookstore but couldn't find anything that looked interesting. When she realized her feet had led her to the Stanford Theater, she frowned. A movie might be a good idea, but . . .

Shaking off her hesitation, Sarah stepped up to the window and bought a ticket, then walked into the theater and took a seat in the back.

There was a small but enthusiastic crowd watching today's movie: _Charade_, starring Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. She didn't know anything about the movie, but found herself getting swept up in the story of secrets and lies in 1960s Paris. To think, if she had gone to the Sorbonne, she would have walked in those streets. And now she would be working for Skylark Wines, probably still shy and awkward and hiding behind her glasses, and she would barely know Chuck.

Dropping her head, Sarah reached behind her glasses and rubbed her eyes, trying to deal with the eye strain that resulted in using glasses she didn't need anymore. Her vision problems were minor; the CIA had encouraged her to have corrective laser surgery, which she had done about a year ago. When she had come across this old pair of glasses in a box in her bedroom closet, during a middle-of-the-night cleaning fit on Monday, she had put them on, for a reason she wasn't quite sure of. But now they were giving her headaches.

Sarah returned her attention to the screen, even though everything was a bit of a blur. But watching the movie helped pass the time. By the time the credits rolled, it was a quarter after seven.

It was showtime.

XXX

Everything was going according to plan. When she returned to Bartowski Electronics, she told the security guard she had forgotten something at her desk. He had waved her through, barely noticing her. Sarah wasn't sure if her looks had become that diminished, or if he was just bored, but either way she wasn't going to complain.

Once she was back at her desk, she booted up her computer and got to work. Hacking an electronics company's computers was well beyond her technical skills, but her CIA contact had provided a device that could scan the servers for anything that related to the provided keywords. Taking out the burner cell phone he had sent her, Sarah plugged it into the USB drive on her computer, then started doing searches using the list of keywords she had brainstormed.

While the phone chugged along on the searches, she went to the U.S. Patent Office's website and used the username and password supplied by her contact. She scrolled through the list of newly-submitted applications, searching for anything that might be connected to Bartowski Electronics.

After an hour of searching, she found what she was looking for. Submitted under a company called Nasty Knife Computers was an application for a plastic cell phone screen. She knew this was it-Chuck had told her that his very first company, begun while he was in high school, was called that.

She pulled up the application and began reading it over. Her eyes widened. The plastic for the screen was made from sugar cane? She didn't even know that was possible. But apparently, it was.

Since she didn't know much about sugar cane, she pulled up Wikipedia and did some quick reading. There wasn't anything that indicated sugar cane could be turned into plastic, and she didn't really know anything about patent applications and if they had to prove that it was possible to create what was being patented, but this all looked legitimate to her.

The beeping of her watch reminded her that her window of access to the patents website was nearly up. Sarah quickly copied the patent application while she checked the burner phone. It had finished searching, finding four files.

Setting the phone to copy the files from the server, she began preparing to leave. Her mind was full of questions, but at least now she knew what Chuck had been working on. If she had to guess, it seemed like the sugar cane plastic was a way to keep costs low on the cell phone he wanted to design. After all, sugar cane was a renewable resource, one that flourished in tropical climates. If that hardiness applied to a plastic created from the plant, it made a cell phone that much better adapted to the third world.

It all seemed so very Chuck, to have come up with something so unprecedented and then spent so much time and money developing it. Not because of the financial rewards, although that helped, but simply to make the product that he had in mind-a cell phone that would help some of the poorest people on earth.

As soon as the phone finished copying the files, Sarah turned off her computer and gathered her equipment, shoving it into her bag. It had taken longer than she thought it would, but she had confidence in her ability to explain herself if she was asked.

She walked confidently down the hallway, or at least as confidently as she could manage. She just wanted to get out of the building, so she could look over the files that were on the burner phone and figure out what her next step was.

"Good night," she said to the security guard as she walked past him. He nodded, his eyes not leaving the screen of the small television in front of him.

When she slid behind the wheel of her car, Sarah hesitated. She knew she should wait until she got someplace more secure, but she couldn't wait. Fumbling in her bag, she pulled out the phone and looked over the files.

Two appeared to be blueprints, reflecting the use of the sugar cane plastic screen in the cell phone. One was a financial breakdown of the costs involved in the new plastic. So far, these documents made sense.

For some reason, she felt a sense of foreboding as she waited for the fourth file to open. It seemed to take forever for the document to load. She brought the phone close to her face, then pushed her glasses up as she read, feeling her heart sink.

It was a memo or letter-she wasn't sure which. The sentences were stilted, as if they were written by someone who had been taught English but had forgotten a lot of it. But the meaning was perfectly clear: the writer was thanking someone within Bartowski Electronics for the opportunity to learn more about their new plastic.

In her hand was proof that someone inside the company had sent information to an outside source. Someone most likely in a foreign country-and if she was a betting woman, she would wager it was China-had gotten blueprints or specifications on the plastic.

This was proof that there was some kind of mole inside Bartowski Electronics. This changed her mission.

Tossing the phone back in her bag quickly, Sarah started her car and pulled out of her parking spot, driving to the exit of the garage. She had to send word to her contact. And she had plans to make.

XXX

The one downside to her drive back to the Napa Valley was how long it was. It hadn't taken her long to determine what she needed to do with this intel, which left her a lot of time to think. Too much time for her mind to wander to Chuck.

Sarah still didn't understand how he thought she was still interested in Bryce. She had given him signals-she knew she had. The smiles, the teasing, the kiss on the cheek! Had he thought, this whole time, that she was just killing time with him?

Blowing out a breath, she stared at the line of brake lights ahead of her. Perhaps she needed an outside perspective on this. Someone to help her figure out what was going on. Unfortunately, the first person who came to mind was the one she needed insight into.

As she waited for the traffic to move, she kept thinking about their date. She had admitted to herself that it had been a date for her. How else to explain how much effort she had put into her appearance? How else to explain not taking the CIA pill to prevent the wine from affecting her?

Pushing aside those questions, she put herself back in that moment when she opened the door. When she saw him standing there, looking at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

But . . . wait. She concentrated, trying to figure out what about his look had niggled at her. It took her a few minutes, but when she figured it out, she nearly gasped.

Chuck always had that look, in varying strengths, when he saw her. No matter what she was wearing, how she had done her hair . . . he always looked at her like she was beautiful.

Her chest felt tight, her heart thudding against her ribs. She-she had to talk to someone about this. She couldn't keep this inside anymore.

An exit loomed ahead. Sarah quickly navigated through the traffic, needing to get off the road. She pulled into the parking lot of an In-and-Out Burger just off the interstate and opened her purse, digging for her cell phone. There was only one person, other than Chuck, that she could tell about this. She just hoped he would hear her out before he told her just how screwed she was and how she needed to get out immediately.

The phone rang nearly a dozen times and she had just about given up hope when a sleepy voice said, "'Lo?"

"John," she said softly. "It's Sarah. Can you talk?"

"Sarah?" She could hear soft noises in the background. "Yeah, I can talk . . . what's going on?"

She held the phone tightly. "I-I'm compromised."

It took him a moment to reply. When he did, she could hear the sympathy in his voice. "How?"

For John's safety, she held back on the details of the mission. "I met someone. And-and he's involved in the mission. I mean, I don't think he's anything more than an innocent bystander, but . . . but I really care about him, not that he knows that, because he's a genius who can't see something two feet in front of him-he thinks I'm in love with his brother!"

"Whoa, Sarah." John interrupted her. "Slow down. This isn't the end of the world."

"It isn't?" She could hear her voice tremble.

"No, it isn't. You think you're the first agent to fall in love with someone you meet on a mission?"

Although her heart fluttered at the word "love," she did her best to calm down. "So what do I do?"

"What's the first rule, Sarah?" he asked, his voice equal parts gentle and teasing. "It's not that long since your first O&I class."

Sarah huffed out a laugh. "God, you're so obnoxious."

"I'm waiting," he said, and Sarah could practically see him in her mind's eye. Sitting up in bed, a teasing smirk on his face as he listened to her.

"Know yourself," she said.

"Exactly," he said. "I know you're thoughtful, that you're in your own head a lot, but there comes a time when you can't think something out. You've got to feel it. It's part of learning who you are. So . . . if I was you, I'd find a way to get alone for a little while and just feel. Don't think, Sarah."

His words made sense. This whole time, she'd approached her feelings like they were a logic puzzle. Like she had to figure out which bottle had the magical potion and which bottle held the poison. But emotions weren't logical. She couldn't reason them out. She . . . she just had to feel them.

"Okay," she said softly. She bit her lower lip. "John? What are the rules about agents having outside relationships?"

"You think it might be that serious?"

She wasn't sure if his question was being asked as her friend or as an experienced agent. Sarah closed her eyes. "I just want to know all the variables."

Over the phone, she could hear him take a deep breath. "Officially, it's allowed. Unofficially? For a woman? It's not the smartest thing to do if you want a career in the CIA, Sarah. At least, not if you want to keep working in the field. Because with relationships come things like marriage and children, and the CIA is pretty leery about letting possibly-pregnant women be put in the line of fire."

Even though he couldn't see her, she nodded. "Okay."

"That doesn't mean you should give up on this guy, Sarah. If you really care about him, you should try and make it work."

"I know, John. I mean, I'm not ready to just . . . " She let her voice trail off as she searched for the words. "I'm not ready to give up on him. Not without figuring out how I really feel first."

"Attagirl," he said quietly.

That made her laugh. "Thank you, John. I didn't know who else to talk to about this. Well, other than Chuck. And that wouldn't work." She frowned and bit her lip when she realized she had slipped by revealing Chuck's name.

"Is that the guy? Chuck?" John's voice was amused. "I didn't think people named their children 'Chuck' anymore."

"Hey, don't make fun of him." The words were out of her mouth before she was even conscious of thinking them.

John burst out laughing. "Okay, I think my work here is done."

She rolled her eyes. "Laugh yourself right back to sleep, John. I'll talk to you later."

"Good luck, Sarah," he said, still a hint of laughter in his voice, but also support and encouragement.

"Bye," she said softly, hanging up the phone.

Sarah leaned her head back against the headrest, coming to grips with what John had said. She didn't want to open this can of emotional worms while she was driving. It would have to wait until she got home. When she was in her bedroom and wouldn't be disturbed.

With how traffic was, she was at least forty-five minutes from the winery. She should get right back on the road. But first, she opened up the picture of Chuck and looked at him again. Just for a moment. Just to remind herself why she was putting herself through all of this.

And after the moment, she put her phone away carefully, then started up the car. She turned the radio on loud, rolled down the window, and took off her glasses, sliding them into her purse. And with the wind and the music, she was able to keep herself focused all the way home.

When she pulled into the parking lot, she felt so content to be home. She might feel confused and unsure, but at least she was almost to her bed. Soon, she'd be able to relax and put this day behind her.

Opening the door to the apartment, she smiled a little at the sight of her dad, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out as he flipped through the channels. "Hi, Dad."

He looked over at her. "Hey, stranger. Haven't seen much of you this week."

"I know," she said, dropping her bag by the end of the couch and walking over to sit next to him. "Work's been crazy."

"Hmm," he said, taking a sip from a bottle of water. "Just work?"

She hesitated for a moment, kicking off her shoes and drawing one leg underneath herself. "Why do you ask?"

"Because before Monday, you were going around with this happy little smile. Like you had a secret. But this whole week, you look like someone who lives in Seattle in the middle of the rainy season."

Huffing out a laugh, she looked over at him. "That bad, huh?"

"You started wearing your glasses again. When I saw those, I knew something was wrong, darlin'." Jack looked right back at her, his eyes narrowed.

It was funny. Her whole life, she had thought her father had never noticed her. He'd gone to work and then come home to drink enough wine to make him fall asleep. But it appeared that even before he seemingly stopped drinking, he had been noticing things about her.

"Can I ask you a question, Dad?"

"Ask me anything you want, darlin'," he said, tipping his water bottle back.

"Why don't you drink anymore?" she asked bluntly.

Her question surprised him. She could tell by the way his hand squeezed the water bottle. Then he carefully set it down and shifted on the couch. "I run a winery, Sarah. I still drink."

"Not like you used to," she countered.

Jack blew out a breath. "Okay, yeah. I'm not drinking so I can sleep at night. I'm not drinking so I can hide."

Sarah hesitated. Hiding? What did he mean? Her confusion must have shown, because Jack elaborated. "With losing your mom the way we did . . . it was easier to always have a few glasses of wine in me. Especially as you started growing up and became the picture of her."

"Mom was beautiful," Sarah said, looking over at the photo that hung in the corner of the room. The photo that showed a young, vibrant Emma Walker, holding a four-year-old Sarah on her lap with Jack standing behind them. It was their last family portrait, taken two years before a drunk driver had taken Emma away from them.

"And so are you, even though you went and hid your light under a bushel until recently," he said. "We were both trying to avoid our empty places, darlin'."

As she went through her memories, she could understand what her father meant. There had been no way to replace his wife or her mother, so they hadn't tried, even though they could have been more of a comfort to each other. "So . . . so what made you stop?"

"Honestly?" he asked. When she nodded, he appeared to gird himself. "Well . . . you goin' off to Paris and saying that you wouldn't be home for two years, it seemed pretty convenient to me. Like you were saying you didn't want to have anything to do with me. Made me take stock of things. And . . . y'know. Your mom's been gone over fifteen years now. She'd slap me if she could have seen me, letting all that time slip away." Jack shrugged. "Seemed like it was time to stop."

She reached out and took his hand. "It must have been so hard. Especially being around all the wine here."

"It wasn't easy," Jack said. "But I did it. 'Cause I wanted to finally be a good example of a father to you. Showin' you that it was never too late to change." He gave her a crooked smile. "But you beat me to that one, darlin'."

"I just got rid of my glasses and learned how to do my hair," she said. "I . . . I didn't change that much on the inside."

"Maybe, maybe not. But you decided to finally play the game, instead of standing around and watching."

She had the urge to do something she hadn't done in years. Slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder. "It's funny, but I thought I wanted a fairy tale, like in all those stories Mom used to read to me. But life isn't like that. Bad guys can be handsome and charming and nice guys can be overlooked."

"Yep," he said, his voice sounding slightly thick, like he was trying to hold back some kind of emotion. "But that doesn't mean you won't find your prince, darlin'."

"I think I already have," she said softly. "I just . . . I might have to convince him that he is a prince."

A silence fell over them, punctuated only by the sound of the breeze blowing in through the windows. Then her father spoke quietly. "Your mom had to do the same thing for me. So if she can do it, so can you."

Could she really do that? Make Chuck see that he was a prince? Maybe. She wasn't sure. Because despite her words to the contrary, she still had to figure out if she wanted a fairy tale romance at all. She had always thought that since she'd never get a happily-ever-after for herself, so she needed to have a career, something she could depend on. Now, she was reconsidering everything she used to believe.

Until she could take John's advice and listen to her feelings, she wouldn't know. And although part of her said to go to her room and get started, Sarah ignored that little voice and stayed right where she was, with her head on her father's shoulder.

End, Chapter 5


	6. Chapter 6

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 6/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: Next-to-last chapter! I'm so happy that readers are enjoying this story so much. Thanks for all your reviews!

Oh, by the way, there seemed to be some confusion in the last chapter, but Sarah wasn't talking to John Casey. It was John Day, her teacher from the first chapter. I realize now I should have chosen a different first name for that character. So I apologize for the confusion!

XXX

With a soft sigh of relief, Sarah opened her eyes on Saturday morning. She felt incredibly well-rested; when she had gotten home last night, she had eaten a light dinner and relaxed before bed. Now, after a full night of sleep, she was ready to make her weekend count.

Today she would take a hike, giving herself the alone time she needed to do as John had recommended: get to know herself. To learn about the Sarah that she had become in the weeks since she had returned to California, the woman that needed to figure out her feelings. Between the physical activity and the privacy, she thought she could achieve that goal. Turn her mind off and just feel-that was the plan.

All she wanted was to find some clarity. Her feelings seemed so wispy and inconsequential; she wasn't sure what she felt or if the emotions would last. What if this was just a passing fancy for Chuck? She couldn't risk uprooting her whole life for him-not unless she was certain. So today would be about getting certain.

A firm knock on her door made her sit up as her father stuck his head into her room. "Darlin'? You've got a visitor."

Although she had no idea when Chuck was due to return from China-he had said he would be gone a week-her heart still gave one quick thump at her father's words. "I'll be right out, Dad," she said, throwing the covers back.

Her father closed the door while Sarah pulled on a robe over her t-shirt and underwear. She ran a brush through her hair and checked her breath, before dashing into her bathroom to brush her teeth.

When she walked into the living room and saw Bryce standing there, her heart sank.

"Sarah," he said, walking over and kissing her cheek. "Straight out of bed and gorgeous, I see."

Was it just her, or was there a hint of a leer in his voice, something she hadn't heard before? She tightened the belt of her robe a little and managed a small smile. "Hi, Bryce. Welcome back."

"Thanks, gorgeous," he said. He rubbed his hands together. "I hope you're hungry, because I am going to take you out for the biggest breakfast in Napa County. Quite possibly in all of Northern California."

A heavy breakfast was the last thing she needed today. "That's nice of you, Bryce, but-"

"You've got plans?" he asked, looking crestfallen. "I mean, I should have known, a woman as beautiful as you . . ."

"I was just going to go for a hike," Sarah admitted, not even sure why she was telling him.

Bryce perked up. "You can go later! I don't often have to beg, but please come, Sarah. There's something I need to talk to you about. A favor to ask you." He clasped his hands in front of him, adopting a pleading expression.

She nearly rolled her eyes, both at him and herself. Of course he would put on such an act, but what did it say about her that she was actually ready to agree?

"Okay, okay," Sarah said. "I'll go to breakfast with you. Just give me a few minutes to get ready."

He smiled brightly at her. "Take all the time you need-not that you need much, of course."

If he was Chuck, the same words might have come out of his mouth. But while Bryce was cocky and almost arrogant, Chuck would have sounded sweet.

Giving Bryce a tight smile, she turned and went into her bedroom. It was true that she could just delay her hike a few hours without a major impact, but she hated having to wait when she was more than ready to begin figuring herself out. But if Bryce needed a favor, she would hear him out. If only because his mother was her father's boss.

Not bothering with a shower since she would need one later anyway, Sarah got dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt. She threw a zippered sweatshirt on top, in case it was chilly outside. Her hair went into a quick braid and a pair of sneakers went on her feet. Hopefully, Bryce wouldn't harbor any ideas about her now.

When she stepped back into the living room, Bryce was talking to her father, who was sipping a cup of coffee.

"Ready to go, Bryce?" Sarah asked, hearing the brisk note in her voice and not really caring. She just wanted to get through this breakfast so she could get back to what was really important to her right now.

"I am at your command!" he said, offering her his arm with a smile.

Something about the gesture made her frostiness melt slightly. Bryce really was charming and charismatic. He was like a clear puddle: beautiful to look at, but you could see all the way down to his depths, only to discover there wasn't much there.

She smiled back at him and took his arm. After all, it was a breakfast on someone else's dime, and perhaps she could even get some information from him about why his marriage was so important to Chuck's plans. Now that she thought about it, Bryce had mentioned his fiancée's family had something to do with sugar cane . . . perhaps that was the connection?

Thankfully, Bryce was plenty happy to carry the conversation. If she gave him fifteen percent of her attention, enough to follow what he was saying and reply with a nod or a smile or a "Oh, no!" at appropriate points, he seemed to be content. That kept the conversation going until they reached the restaurant.

Once they had sat down, received a carafe of coffee and placed their orders, Sarah looked Bryce straight in the eye, taking a good look at him. He was tanned and well-rested, his black hair flopping over his forehead messily. He looked back at her, his eyes sparkling.

Sarah had to chuckle a little. He wasn't that different from the boy she used to watch from her bedroom window, the boy who was always playing games and pulling pranks on the servants. She had been so dreamy-eyed over him once. Now, looking at him, she just wanted to punch him in the shoulder and call him on his frat-boy attitudes, even though she knew it wouldn't make a difference with him.

"So what's this favor you want to ask me?" she said, sipping her coffee.

"Cutting right to the chase, huh?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. "I like that."

"We could do small talk if you want," Sarah said, shrugging her shoulders. She gave him a devilish smirk. "How's your fiancée?"

Bryce leaned back in his seat, clearly not bothered by her question. "Oh, Elizabeth's great. She's decided that she wants to get married in Mexico, down in Baja California. There's a resort there that's pretty nice. She's got all these plans, starting with floating two thousand gardenias in one of the resort's pools."

"That's a lot of gardenias," Sarah commented.

"It's what Elizabeth wants. And hey, I got a new polo pony out of this, so I'm good," he said.

"Tell me again why you're getting married?" Sarah asked, half-joking and half-serious.

"Mom basically picked out Elizabeth for me," Bryce explained, taking a long swallow from his coffee cup. "And it's good for Chuck's business. He explained it to me last week, but I kinda tuned him out. He said you two had done some hanging out-God, Sarah, how did you put up with all his boring nerd crap?"

"It's not boring," she snapped before she could help herself.

His eyebrows practically reached his hairline. "Wait a minute. Chuck seems to think you did stuff with him just 'cause I wasn't around."

"It wasn't like that," she said, putting down her coffee cup and fidgeting a little with the salt and pepper shakers.

"Hmmm," he said, running his eyes over her. Before he could have more time to consider anything, she repeated her question.

"What favor, Bryce?"

Thankfully, he didn't ignore her question. "The thing is, Mom's still pretty pissed off at me, even though I'm marrying Elizabeth. She's cutting off my allowance."

"I thought you had a trust fund like Chuck," Sarah said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. Was he going to ask her for money? If he was, he must be truly desperate, since he had to know she wasn't exactly rolling in cash.

"I do, but I don't get full access until I'm thirty." Bryce made a face. "It's not fair that Chuck got his when he turned eighteen."

To Sarah, it sounded more than fair, since Chuck had spent his money wisely while Bryce had given his parents more than enough reasons to doubt his financial skills. But she didn't say that, instead letting Bryce continue.

"So I asked Chuck for a job, but he's been dragging his feet. Would you help a guy out and put in a good word for me?"

She blinked. Of all the things Bryce could have asked her, this was pretty close to the bottom of the list.

"W-why do you think I could-"

Bryce groaned. "C'mon, Sarah, isn't it obvious? You're gorgeous and he's a nerd-you ask him for anything and he'd give it to you."

To control herself, she let her eyes drop to stare at the table. As nice as it was to get a compliment, this wasn't really a compliment. Did he think she would use her looks like that? Like she was some bimbo?

The head of steam she was building suddenly deflated when she realized that was the whole point of her looks. Why else did the CIA pay for the laser surgery on her eyes, teach recruits how to use makeup and hair products, subject them to rigorous physical workouts? It was not just to make their bodies strong but to make them attractive, too. And she'd learned their lessons and used them. On Bryce, on Chuck, on everyone. Maybe not consciously, but she had.

Was that all she had become? A pretty face? She knew she was intelligent, but could that compare to how she looked? Could that be why Chuck thought she was still interested in Bryce-because they were both attractive people without much else to offer?

That wasn't fair to Chuck, though. Not in the slightest. She'd never seen any sign that he treated anyone, much less her, based on their appearances. For a moment, she was thinking of Chuck as Bryce must. Because what a low opinion he had of his brother if he thought the CEO of a major electronics corporation would let himself be swayed by someone like her.

Bryce barely knew Chuck; how could he know how his half-brother felt? Chuck probably had good reasons for not yet responding to Bryce's request. If Bryce thought she might be able to change Chuck's mind, she was pretty sure he would be disappointed. Because she didn't think Chuck would be willing to go against his own judgement if she asked him to reconsider.

Sarah was ready to tell Bryce that when she lifted her eyes. But when she saw his hopeful smile, she found herself nodding. It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it? And it would give her an excuse to talk with Chuck . . .

"You'll help me? Really?" Bryce's face lit up, and suddenly she could see the resemblance between him and Chuck.

"Yes, I'll help . . . although I'm surprised you thought to get a job," Sarah said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Elizabeth said if I try to live off her, she'd sell off my things and use the money to restock her bank account," Bryce said glumly.

She couldn't help giggling a little. "She sounds like she's going to keep you on your toes."

Bryce grinned. "Yeah, she will."

As he launched into a monologue about how he expected his life with Elizabeth to be, uninterrupted except for when he stopped to eat, Sarah pondered this state of affairs. Did Chuck see this situation the same way Bryce did? If Chuck thought of himself as a nerd, as someone who was lucky to spend time with her, then perhaps that was why he seemed so willing to believe that she was still in love with Bryce. So willing to have her as only his friend-because he thought that would be all he could ever have.

All the questions made her head hurt. So she drank some more coffee and ate her breakfast, looking forward to getting back to the winery.

XXX

The drive back to Skylark was quiet. Bryce seemed all talked out, although she could see him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. She didn't think he had any clue about how she really felt about Chuck, which was good because Sarah didn't really know, either. All she could hope was that by the time Chuck had returned from China, she would have gotten herself figured out. Then, she would be able to talk to him.

"Sarah?" Bryce said as he pulled into the driveway to the winery.

She turned to look at him, using her hands to control the hair that was being whipped around her face by the wind. "Yeah, Bryce?"

"I rag on Chuck a lot, but he's a good guy." He glanced over at her before looking ahead and taking a deep breath. "So if you like him-"

He stopped mid-sentence, then smirked. "Speak of the devil."

"What?" Sarah said, shifting in her seat to look ahead.

Straight ahead was Chuck's Prius.

Sarah felt like she couldn't breath. He was here, right in front of her, and she hadn't been prepared for that and she looked awful and-

Bryce pulled his convertible into the spot next to Chuck's car, hopping out. "What are you doing here?" he asked as Chuck climbed out of his car.

"I just got back," Chuck said, looking slightly hunched over. "Mom told me you were home when I called her from the airport, so I came right here. I need to talk to you."

He looked tired and pale. The jet lag from his trip, flying to China and back in less than a week, had taken a toll on him. His hair looked matted and puffy and he was wearing a rumpled t-shirt, one that had a picture of a floppy disk with the label "My entire life."

And he was all she wanted to look at.

"I was out to breakfast with Sarah," Bryce said, gesturing to his side. Then a confused look bloomed on his face as he looked for her. Because she hadn't been able to climb out of the passenger seat yet. Not when she wasn't sure her body was working properly. But she scrambled out of the car so she could get a better look at Chuck.

The moment before Chuck met her eyes felt like the longest in her life. It was like standing on a high diving board, waiting for the moment when you would jump and fly through the air into cold, dark water.

When his brown eyes finally connected with her blue ones, Sarah nearly gasped. Right now, she felt so far from the spy she was trained to be, from the woman she tried to be. There was no thought in her mind, just pure basic emotions.

She had missed him so much. All she wanted was to walk over to him and wrap her arms around him and never let go. To show him everything she was feeling and make him see how wrong he was. Because he thought she was in love with his brother.

The flash of sadness in his eyes was a knife to her gut; his weak smile was twisting the blade. "Hey, Sarah," he said, his voice studiously upbeat. "It's good to see you."

Somehow, she kept herself from running towards him as fast as she could. She tried to sound normal as she spoke. "Hi, Chuck." She gave him a small smile, knowing that it was wavering and tremulous.

They couldn't seem to look away from the other. At least, that was how it felt to Sarah. Her hands were sweating and her stomach was rolling. But she hadn't seen him for nearly a week and she might just know how she felt about him if her reactions were anything to judge by, but she wouldn't know for sure until she could be alone. But that would mean walking away from Chuck and she wasn't sure she could do that just yet.

If only she could read his mind and know what he was thinking. So she could know what to do, what to say. She didn't want to screw this up more than she already had. She should have never let him think that she cared about Bryce.

Sarah nearly jumped when Bryce spoke, breaking the spell. "You look beat, Chuck. Why don't you take a nap and then you and me can talk business?"

Chuck looked equally startled, before turning to face Bryce. "Business?" Chuck said, sounding confused. "You want to talk business with me?"

"You kidder," Bryce said, shaking Chuck by his shoulder. "You're half-asleep on your feet. Let's get you to bed."

"Yeah, okay," Chuck said. He looked over at her quickly, then let Bryce lead him up to the house.

Fumbling for something to say, she finally blurted out, "Sleep tight!"

Bryce waved to her and Chuck turned to look back at her for a long moment. Their eye contact only broke when he stumbled and Bryce helped him until they rounded the bend of the drive, moving out of sight.

Slumping back, Sarah leaned against Chuck's car and took a moment to recover. Reaching up, she pulled the holder from her braid so she could run her hands through her hair, needing to have something to hold on to for a moment. Then she slowly walked up into the apartment, heading for her bedroom.

Once she was in her room, she kicked off her sneakers before flopping down on her bed and gazing up at the ceiling. It seemed like she wouldn't need that hike after all. Because she knew how she felt now.

Seeing him had been a punch in the gut. A sweet pain, full of possibilities that she had tried to push away. But after this week without him, she knew that she couldn't be his friend. At least, she couldn't be just his friend. She wanted more. She wanted everything. She wanted him.

Sarah rolled over and buried her face in her pillows. How could she be so stupid to not realize this? And she had complained about Chuck missing signals. She was just as bad, being so scared of admitting her feelings, trying to hide from them and reason them out.

And because of that, things between her and Chuck were so tangled that she didn't know if they could ever be worked out. She thought he cared about her, but he also thought she loved Bryce. She had been working at his company to protect it, which he knew nothing about. And it appeared that the project he was pouring his heart and soul into was jeopardized by a mole that she needed to uncover. All of these problems had been caused by her. By not trusting him, by not being honest, she had created this mess.

Could she figure it out? Was it even possible?

It had to be, she thought, feeling a spike of determination. She had to find a way to fix all of this, because anything else meant that she wouldn't be able to have Chuck. If he was willing to have her, that is, after all her lies and secrets.

She pushed herself up, brushing some of her hair out of her face. Even if he wasn't able to forgive her, she wanted to tell him. Wanted him to know the truth.

The only question was, how could she tell him? She would need to find a way to get him alone, without any interruptions. Perhaps she could take him out to dinner? Or find him after he woke up and ask him to take a walk with her?

Her brain swerved into a tangent, imagining what Chuck looked like when he slept. She could picture him with those long eyelashes resting against his cheeks and his lips softly pouting, his breathing slow and even as he relaxed. Did he sprawl out on the bed or curl up tight? Did he kick the covers off or pull them up to his chin? What did he wear to bed?

Sarah's cheeks grew hot and she rubbed her hands over her face. Perhaps it would be best if she went for that hike. If she really pushed her body, she might be able to keep such thoughts at bay, because picturing Chuck in bed would surely drive her crazy. And it would give her time to pick the best option for approaching him. For telling him how she felt.

Getting off her bed, Sarah began changing into hiking clothes, drawing her hair back into a ponytail. Taking a small day pack, she slid her cell phone inside after making sure it was charged, then stopped in the kitchen for some water and food. Then, trying to not let herself drift off into a daze, she left the apartment and headed off, searching for a path that would challenge her.

XXX

The sun had reached its zenith and was beginning its slow descent when Sarah set foot again on the land of Skylark Wines. She had spent hours tramping around, going far beyond the winery's acres as she tried to find some semblance of calm. And although she usually didn't go in for meditation or inner reflection, she did feel better.

The walking and climbing had let her clear her mind. As Sarah hiked through the valley, it became easier for her to look at her feelings. To realize just how strong her feelings were for Chuck and how much she wanted him to know that. She remembered her belief, as she had finished her spy training, that you couldn't wait for life to happen-you had to make things happen.

With a small, rueful grin, Sarah paused at the edge of the woods on the Larkin estate and drank the last of her water. She had been brimming with confidence a month ago, certain that she knew how to live her life now. Actually living it had shown her how little she knew. But that didn't change the fact that her instincts had been right. She needed to stop hiding from how she felt.

She didn't know if she loved Chuck. It was still too soon for that. But she sensed that it could definitely happen. She liked him because he was funny and sweet and smart. She was attracted to him for his brain and his body. Even his flaws, like how he considered other people first and could be much too passive, were things that she could at least understand, if not outright admire as long as he didn't take it too far.

It didn't seem like it would take much to fall in love with him. Sarah wanted that chance. She wanted him to know that she couldn't see him as just a friend. Over the course of the last few hours, she had developed her plan. It began with asking Chuck if he was free tomorrow night and if he would like to get dinner with her. Then, once they were together and alone she would tell him the truth: the reasons she came back to Napa, how she really felt, and ask him to give her a chance.

There were so many ways this could all blow up in her face, but she was tired of not telling Chuck the truth. Tired of not telling anyone the truth, actually. She had spent her whole life, it felt like, hiding behind the brick walls of her glasses and her natural reserve. Although the CIA had helped her break down those walls, they had let her rebuild them out of glass. It meant she was still closed off, still keeping people at arm's length. The thought of letting anyone get a glimpse of the real Sarah was a scary, almost terrifying prospect. But over the course of her soul-searching, she realized that she knew she could trust Chuck if she let him in. That he wouldn't take advantage of her trust.

Princesses never seemed to have this problem, Sarah thought idly as she moved through the woods, drawing near the Larkin mansion. Their problems were always on the outside: an evil witch or stepmother, no riches or social status. They didn't have to overcome their own issues in order to fall in love.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard loud voices. Looking around, Sarah realized she was at the edge of the woods, not far from the patio at the rear of the Larkin mansion. It sounded like there was some kind of argument going on inside the house, near one of the windows. In fact, she was right by her old tree, the one from which she had watched all the Larkin parties over the years.

A chill went over her body when she saw Chuck stomp out onto the patio, followed by Bryce. In a flash, Sarah quickly climbed the tree, gratified to find that it hadn't been altered since she had last climbed it. Once she was settled in the tree, she made her breaths slow and even so she could listen without attracting any attention.

"Bryce, I know you feel like you've got nowhere to turn, but I can't just give you a job. You've got no qualifications, not even a bachelor's degree, and you can barely use a computer. How would it look if I hired you?"

Chuck sounded exasperated. But more than that, Sarah sensed there was something hovering on the edge of his voice. Some emotion that pushed him close to the breaking point. And although she guessed that he had gotten several hours of sleep at this point, he still looked tired. Sarah bit her lip as she watched and listened.

"It's your company!" Bryce argued. "It's not even publicly traded-I checked! See, I can do something. So you could hire anyone you wanted. It's not like you have stockholders to bitch about one person."

"That's not the point, Bryce," Chuck said. "I just don't know that there's anything at Bartowski Electronics that you'd find interesting."

"Being broke makes a lot of boring things seem interesting. Not that you'd know anything about that."

The petulance in Bryce's voice was extreme. Sarah wondered if he was putting on some kind of act-a thought that was confirmed when a sly smirk crossed Bryce's face. "I knew I should have gotten Sarah to ask you."

Sarah held on to the tree tightly, feeling the bark scratch against her palms. She didn't like where this was going. Her heart beat harder as she saw Chuck do a double-take, then push out a forced laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, attempting to sound confused. But Chuck was a lousy actor, and it was clear that he knew exactly what Bryce was saying.

"You two seem to have gotten quite chummy while I was gone. At least, that was the vibe I got from Sarah at breakfast this morning," Bryce said, leaning casually against the railing of the patio. "After all, she doesn't think all your nerdiness is boring."

It was like watching a sunrise, seeing the hope spring to life in Chuck's face. But after a moment, it faded, replaced with skepticism. "And how do you know that, Bryce?"

"She told me," he said, pushing off from the railing and ambling over to his taller half-brother. "And it wasn't all she told me."

She could see Chuck struggling, the desire to ask Bryce for more information practically visible. But instead, he half-folded, half-wrapped his arms over his chest. "I'm glad you got to spend some time together."

Bryce's face was in profile, so Sarah had a hard time gauging his expression. But she thought it looked sympathetic. Maybe even pitying. And she didn't understand why, until she heard Bryce's exit line.

"I don't think you're glad. I think you're worried about having me at your company, worried about having me so close to Sarah. You're so worried that you're going a little bit crazy. But you know, you don't have anything to worry about."

Without any further explanation, Bryce turned and strolled back into the house, almost sauntering. Chuck stared after him, looking lost and unhappy, and Sarah's heart went out to him. Seeing him like that, so uncertain and confused, made her want to jump down from her tree and hug him. Or at least tell him that she wanted to have dinner with him. But was this the right time? How could she explain just happening upon him at that moment?

Her hesitation lasted too long; before she could even begin to wiggle down from the tree, Chuck dashed into the house. Perhaps he was going after Bryce, perhaps he had remembered something he needed to do. But either way, he vanished before she could do anything.

Sarah climbed down out of the tree, wincing a little as her knee scraped against the bark. At least she knew he was awake; she could text him with her dinner invite without worrying about waking him up.

Pushing aside the momentary mental picture of Chuck wrapped up in white sheets, she headed towards the winery offices and her apartment. After she texted Chuck, she definitely wanted a shower.

XXX

There wasn't enough makeup in the world to hide the dark circles under Sarah's eyes when she walked into the Bartowski Electronics offices on Monday. She had spent the last two nights getting only a few hours of sleep, struggling to deal with her worry and confusion.

She had sent Chuck a text on Saturday afternoon, asking him to dinner on Sunday. She spent the evening hours waiting for his reply, used to his speedy responses. But as one hour passed, then two, she started to become nervous. She kept pulling out her phone and checking that the ringer hadn't been turned off and that the phone was getting service. Although she normally turned the volume off on her phone when she went to sleep, she didn't do so. But falling asleep was nearly impossible with her poised to grab the phone at the first ring.

On Sunday morning, she sent him another text, asking him to call her. It took her nearly a half hour to craft the message, not wanting to appear desperate or pushy. When the second text went without response after three hours, Sarah began to really worry. Was something wrong? Could his phone be broken? Maybe she should go to the Larkin house and ask to see him. Or perhaps . . . he was ignoring her.

That thought sent a cold chill down her spine. Had Bryce said something that made Chuck feel differently about her? Something that made him look at her with new eyes?

Not caring that she hadn't brushed her hair today or that she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt with a coffee stain on it, Sarah shoved her feet into her sneakers and practically ran up the drive to the Larkin house. Following old habits, she went to the back door, the one that opened into the kitchen, and knocked.

Gracie, the plump, friendly cook who had been working for the Larkins all of Sarah's life, opened the door and smiled brightly. "Hello there, Sarah! Don't you look pretty today."

She tried to smile and act friendly, even though the last thing she wanted to do was exchange pleasantries. "Hi, Gracie. Is Chuck here?"

"Chuck?" Gracie asked, looking confused. "Oh, yes, Mister Charles!"

It looked like Mrs. Larkin's attempts to call Chuck by his proper name still held sway over the staff, Sarah thought. She nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mister Charles. Is he here?"

"Why, no. I believe he packed up and went back to Palo Alto last night," Gracie said. "At least, he wasn't at the family dinner."

Sarah felt her stomach drop. He had left? What was going on? Without saying anything, she turned and walked away, knowing she was being rude to Gracie but just not able to think about that. As she walked, she pulled out her phone and pressed the key that would call Chuck.

Her worry increased when instead of ringing, his phone went immediately to voicemail. She gripped the phone even tighter as she listened to his message.

"Hi, this is Chuck. Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Any messages in Klingon will be responded to first. Thanks!"

The little mostly-concealed laugh at the end of his message, as if he knew how silly it was to mention Klingon, made her feel warm all over. So when the beep sounded and the time for her message began, she felt flustered.

"Um . . . hi, Chuck," she said, finally gathering her thoughts. "It's Sarah. I've sent you a few texts about dinner tonight, and I haven't heard back from you. Could you just . . . could you call me, please? I-I'd really like to talk to you. Okay, bye."

Sarah hung up the phone quickly and proceeded to wait. But like her text messages, her call elicited no response from Chuck. And that made Sarah really worry. Not just about whatever kind of relationship they might have, but about Chuck himself. What if he had gotten into some kind of accident?

All the worrying and thinking had kept her up a second night. Pulling herself out of bed on Monday and facing the long drive to Palo Alto was nearly unbearable, but she thought that at least she would be able to find out what was going on with Chuck.

As she walked through the halls, she sensed an unusual buzz in the air. Everyone seemed to be talking excitedly, standing in groups with their coffee cups and Red Bull cans. At first she thought it was something to do with one of the Sunday night TV shows she didn't watch, but it seemed like everyone was worked up. When she saw even Patricia and Tony chattering away when she walked into Finance, Sarah knew something big was going on.

Tony grinned at her. "Hi, Sarah. You hear the news?"

"No, although I can see everyone's excited about something," Sarah said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and skipping her normal creamer.

"Chuck's called a press conference for eleven. He's making some kind of big announcement," Patricia said. "About something that no one knows anything."

It took all of her training not to crush the paper cup she was holding. A press conference? A big announcement? Immediately she thought about Chuck's patent application. If he was announcing the sugar cane plastic, it would definitely prompt the Chinese to take action against the company. It might be something as simple as claiming that the idea had been stolen from them by Bartowski Electronics. Whatever happened, it would be sure to destroy the company and Chuck.

She had to stop the press conference from happening.

"You said it was at eleven?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, in the auditorium over in the other wing. Everyone's welcome to attend, if you want to go."

"Thanks," she said, turning and walking to her desk. She automatically smiled and nodded to the people she walked past, but her mind was fully focused on how to stop anything bad from happening to Chuck.

When she reached her desk, she turned on her computer and did her normal beginning-of-the-day tasks. But she also pulled out her burner phone and checked if she had any messages from her contact.

There was one text.

_Confirmed__. __Data __sent __from __BE __to __Chinese __manufacturer__. __Includes __blueprints __and __schematics__. __Investigating__._

Sarah took a deep breath. She knew this confirmation was coming, but it just made her more worried about what might happen if Chuck announced his new plastic today. She turned and grabbed her office phone, dialing Alice's extension.

It rang several times, before Alice's harried voice answered. "Chuck Bartowski's office, this is Alice, may I put you on hold?"

"Alice, this is Sarah. I really need to talk to Chuck."

"Sarah, the phones are ringing off the hook and Chuck's not taking any calls. I'm sorry. I can have him call you back after the press conference."

There was no doubt that Alice was under fire, and Sarah felt a twinge of guilt for adding to her stress. "Where's Chuck?"

"He's not available. Sorry, Sarah, I have to go." With a definitive click, Alice hung up the phone.

She understood why Alice couldn't tell her anything, given the circumstances. But that didn't mean she was going to let anything stop her.

The press conference was being held in the auditorium, which meant Chuck would have to be there at some point this morning. Most likely he'd be in the backstage area before the press conference started, and then walk out on the stage to make his announcement. So if she staked out the backstage, she would have her best shot at talking to him then. She would sum up the reasons he shouldn't tell anyone about the sugar cane plastic and convince him not to go through with the press conference.

That meant she had a lot of work to do, in order to demonstrate the leak at Bartowski Electronics. And-

Sarah stiffened as she realized what else this plan meant. She would have to reveal why she was here before she had a chance to tell him how she felt for him. Before she could explain how she was on the verge of falling in love with him and she hoped he might feel the same way about her.

Part of her wanted to immediately change the plan. Find a way to get to Chuck earlier, so she would have more time to explain herself before talking about his company. Let him go ahead with the press conference and then warn him about the leak. Anything except jeopardize the future she might have with him.

But she couldn't do that. He would be crushed if anything happened to Bartowski Electronics. And this place was too special to be ruined by some mole who couldn't appreciate how amazing this company was.

It was up to her to save him. Maybe there might be a way for them later. But for now, she was going to protect Chuck Bartowski and his company.

Biting her lower lip, Sarah bent her head and began compiling the data she had collected over the last three weeks. She only paused to check the clock or look up as various people called out what media outlets were arriving to cover the press conference.

By ten-thirty, she was ready. She had a folder that contained a timeline of events and a list of what had been leaked. In her head she had compiled a list of reasons for Chuck to cancel the press conference until this data had been thoroughly examined. It was time to go.

Her heels made a quick click-click, click-click as she hurried through the halls. She didn't want to attract too much attention, but she couldn't risk any kind of delay. As she neared the auditorium, the number of people multiplied and soon the hallway was nearly impassible. Everyone was waiting to get inside to hear Chuck's presentation.

The auditorium seemed to be laid out in a way not dissimilar to a school theater: at the end of the hallway was three sets of double doors, which she assumed let people into the rear of the auditorium. She stood on her toes, trying to see a way through, but there was no chance she could get past this crowd. Letting out a muffled curse, Sarah turned and walked away. She would have to find another way in.

Looking around, she spotted a deserted side corridor lined with windows. Her eyes narrowed, then she raced down the hall. As she suspected, the windows gave her a clear view of the auditorium, a room she had not visited so far during her time at Bartowski Electronics.

There weren't any doors along the side. But there seemed to be a small parking lot on the back side of the building. Perhaps there were a set of doors that lead into the backstage area of the auditorium?

She needed to get outside and get to the back wall of the auditorium. Sarah jogged away, heading towards the lobby.

Sarah wished she had worn pants and boots today, instead of heels and a skirt suit, as she traversed the damp ground towards the back of the auditorium. She checked her watch-only fifteen minutes before the press conference was due to begin.

Picking up her pace, she was soon at the parking lot, which was crammed with satellite trucks. Sarah quickly took her Bartowski Electronics badge off and shoved it in her jacket pocket, not wanting any reporters to corner her.

There were three doors, all closed, along the back wall of the auditorium. She tried the first two and found them locked, their electronic locks not accessible due to her lack of tools. The third one was also locked, but it was located closest to the corner of the building. There was even a tall tree planted by the building, providing a limited amount of cover. And best of all, it only had a key lock.

Kicking herself for not bringing her lockpicks, Sarah looked around for something she might use. Her eyes fell on the folder and she suddenly remembered the paper clip she had used on the paperwork. She tossed aside the folder and drew off the metal clip, tucking the papers into the back of her skirt so she could begin creating a lockpick.

She crouched down and began manipulating the lock. The paper clip was almost too soft to make this work, but she worked slowly and carefully and within a minute, she felt the tumblers fall into the correct place. The door opened and Sarah quickly stepped inside.

The space was large and cavernous. She heard her heels click and stepped out of them, leaving them behind. On bare feet, she crept through the backstage, looking for any sign of Chuck. For just a moment, she paused and let herself give in to her worries and fears, to wondering how Chuck would take her news and if he might one day be able to forgive her. Then, taking a deep breath, she started moving. There was light coming from ahead of her, towards her right, so she went in that direction.

The closer she got to the light, the louder the buzz was. Sarah guessed the auditorium was rapidly filling with Bartowski Electronics staffers and the press. The curtains on the stage were drawn, letting light seep in around the edges; once her eyes adjusted, Sarah could see more of the backstage area.

Stepping carefully, she drew up when she spotted Chuck. He was standing on the opposite side of the stage, partially hidden behind a set of thin curtains that were perpendicular to the main curtain. She dashed across the stage, standing by the curtain and peering around it.

Chuck was alone, wearing a dark suit and a blue tie, his curls carefully tamed. He was speaking quietly, looking at his phone. Sarah guessed he was practicing his speech. Glancing at her watch, she saw that there was only two minutes before the press conference was supposed to start. There was no time to delay.

Sarah moved around the curtain, coming into Chuck's line of sight. "Chuck," she said softly, trying not to startle him.

An attempt made in vain, because he immediately jumped and bobbled his phone a little. His eyes widened. "Sarah? What are you doing here? And how did you get here?"

"There's no time for that," Sarah said, stepping towards him as she reached for the papers still pressed against her back. "You can't hold this press conference, Chuck."

"What?" he asked. "Why not? I mean, you don't even know what I'm going to say."

"You're going to announce a revolutionary new plastic, made from sugar cane," she said, gazing at him. Trying to stay in control, trying not to lose herself in her eyes.

"Yes, but-how do you know about that?" Chuck asked, stepping closer to her. "Sarah, you shouldn't know that." He paused and ran a hand through his hair. "Listen, I know it may sound bad, me making a plastic out of sugar cane and Bryce marrying a woman who was connected with sugar cane plantations."

"That's not what-" she tried to interrupt, but Chuck was still talking.

"But you don't have to worry about that anymore, Sarah," he said, looking into her eyes, the sincerity and concern shining on his face. "Because I've already called off the manufacturing agreement with Shenzhen Electronics. I'm just going to license the technology instead of making it, so I don't need the sugar cane anymore. The agreement with Mr. Harvey, the one he wouldn't sign unless Bryce married his daughter, it's off. Bryce doesn't have to marry Elizabeth-he can be with you."

She stared up at him, completely thrown. He was going to make the plastic himself? With Shenzhen Electronics, a Chinese company? But now he wasn't?

A voice through a microphone started to introduce Chuck, touting his accomplishments and what Bartowski Electronics had done.

"I have to go, Sarah," he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder. Then he turned, nervously adjusting his jacket.

"Chuck, you can't do this!" Sarah insisted. "There-there's a mole, feeding information about the plastic to China-"

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. "Sarah, I don't know how you know this. I-I appreciate your concerns, but there's no mole. I sent information to Shenzhen Electronics, because I wanted to set up a manufacturing contract with them, using the Harvey holdings in sugar cane to ensure supply. But I went to China to call off the deal in person, because I know you love Bryce and I . . ." His voice trailed off as he looked down.

Sarah swallowed, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to process just what she was hearing.

"I want you to be happy," he whispered. "So I'm just telling the world about the plastic, and I'll license it so people can use it for whatever they want. It's a setback for the phone I wanted to create, but, but it's okay."

"No, Chuck," she said, shaking her head. "You shouldn't do this. You can't do this."

The curtains parted to a wave of applause, and Chuck looked over, then back at her. "Why?" he asked, looking at her in confusion.

His simple question froze her. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Chuck swallowed and turned, walking towards the lectern in the middle of the stage, now revealed by the open curtains. Camera flashes strobed as Chuck smiled and waved.

She couldn't let him do this. Couldn't let him sacrifice his dream so she could have something she didn't want anymore. She had to stop him.

The press was impatient, already shouting questions. Chuck smiled and set his phone on the lectern. "Good morning and thank you for coming. I have an announcement to make and then I'll take your questions."

Before he could say anything else, Sarah found herself striding across the stage. Chuck saw her and did a double-take. "Sarah!?" he asked, covering the microphone with his hand. "What are you-"

"You want to know why?" she asked, gazing up at him. "This is why."

And then Sarah Walker reached out and took his face in her hands so she could kiss Chuck Bartowski. And into that kiss she poured everything she had.

End, Chapter 6


	7. Chapter 7

**The ****Fairy ****Tale ****of ****Sarah ****Walker**** 7/7**

**Author**: dettiot

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Sarah Walker might have grown up in a fairy-tale world, but she wasn't a princess-not until a fairy godfather and a new job transformed her. When she returns home, which boy will capture her heart-the one she's loved all her life or the one who's a prince in disguise?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Chuck_. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author****'****s ****Note**: And so ends another fic. I hope you enjoy this concluding chapter-I certainly loved writing this wrap-up, even though I'm a bit sad to leave behind this version of Sarah and Chuck.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, and an especial thanks to Steampunk . Chuckster / victorianoir, the best cheerleader a writer could have-and an even better friend.

XXX

_His __lips __were __soft __and __motionless__. __Sarah __was __ready __to __pull __back__, __to __grapple __with __the __huge __mistake __she __had __made__, __when __suddenly __he __started __to __kiss __her __back__. __His __arms __were __around __her__, __crushing __her __to __him__, __and __she __went __up __on __tiptoe __in __her __bare __feet __to __get __closer __to __him__. _

_Closing __her __eyes__, __she __melted __against __him__, __savoring __the __feeling __of __Chuck __kissing __her__. __He __knew __what __he __was __doing__: __he __mixed __gentleness __with __confidence__, __shyness __with __passion__. __His __kiss __made __her __toes __curl__, __and __when __he __paused__, __his __forehead __resting __against __hers __and __his __panting __breaths __rushing __over __her __lips__, __all __she __wanted __was __more__. _

_Through __her __closed __eyelids__, __she __perceived __flashes __of __light__. __Sarah __opened __her __eyes __and __squinted __before __she __realized __that __it __was __just __the __cameras__. _

_Cameras__!_

_Feeling __her __face __go __scarlet __red__, __she __pulled __back __from __Chuck__. __He __looked __at __her__, __an __adorably __dazed __expression __on __his __face__, __until __the __clicks __of __the __shutters __penetrated __his __mind__. __Then __he __flushed__, __too__. _

"_Um__," __he __said__, __bending __a __little __to __speak __into __the __microphone__. "__Just__-__just __one __minute__, __please__." _

_The __crowd __roared __with __laughter__, __and __Sarah __couldn__'__t __help __giving __Chuck __a __shy__, __giddy __smile__. __He __grabbed __her __hand __and __pulled __her __off __the __stage __into __the __wings__. _

_It __felt __so __good __to __hold __his __hand__, __but __it __felt __even __better __to __stand __close __to __him__. __He __seemed __to __agree__, __because __he __rested __his __free __hand __on __her __back__. _

"_I __have __a __lot __to __tell __you__," __she __said __softly__, __gazing __up __at __him__._

"_You __do__," __he __said__, __his __nose __brushing __against __hers __and __making __her __weak __in __the __knees__. "__But __first__ . . . __can __I __kiss __you __again __before __I __go __and __do __my __press __conference__?"_

_Sarah __giggled __softly__. "__Yes__, __you __may__. __And __you __know __you __don__'__t __have __to __back __out __of __the __deal __with __Shenzhen __Electronics __now__, __right__?" _

"_Less __talking__, __more __kissing__," __he __said__, __leaning __in __and __kissing __her __slowly__. _

XXX

After the press conference, which was rated a huge success by the press and Wall Street, Chuck had done his best to wrap up his day quickly. Sarah had gone back to her desk, a smile on her lips, one that hadn't faded as practically everyone at Bartowski Electronics came by to tease her and congratulate her in equal measure.

Once Chuck was free, he called her and told her how to sneak up to his office through a combination of lesser-used corridors and a secret, private elevator. Alice got them delivery from Dragon Number One, and they had a picnic on the floor of Chuck's office as Sarah explained why she had come to work for Bartowski Electronics.

"You're a spy? Seriously?" he asked, his eyes wide.

She nodded. "Yes. Well, this is my first assignment."

"And you came here because the CIA was worried about my company?"

He sounded a bit uncertain when he asked his question. Like he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. Sarah scooted over towards him and took his hand.

"That's why I came here, yes, but . . . but my feelings have nothing to do with my job," she said, looking into his eyes.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. It was all she could not to lean in and kiss his throat, but she held back, letting him think that over.

"You broke into my company's files to get information," he said slowly.

Sarah took a deep breath. "Yes, I did. But I only was trying to protect you and Bartowski Electronics, so I only looked at files that had something to do with my assignment. Nothing about personnel or other research projects or-"

Chuck squeezed her hand. "I know what you're saying, Sarah."

"It might be hard to believe, but I was going to tell you all of this," she said, determined that he know everything. "That's why I wanted to have dinner with you."

"All of this?" he asked quietly.

She nodded. "About my job and about how I feel."

Licking his lips, which of course drew her eyes to his mouth, he seemed to be organizing his thoughts. "And . . . and how do you feel?" he asked softly, very carefully not looking at her.

If it was possible, that warm, soft, gooey feeling inside her, the one she had been feeling since she realized she wanted him, became even warmer and softer. She wanted to kiss him and wrap her arms around him and ruffle his hair and tease him, all at once. He was such a contradiction to her, and all she wanted was to figure him out.

But first, she had a question to answer. It had taken a lot of searching for her to know how she felt, and it was so good to know what she wanted, to stop hiding, that the only reason she held back slightly was because this was still so new, so fragile, that she didn't want to overwhelm him. But in the same breath, she wanted him to know just how amazing she thought he was.

Sarah rubbed her fingers against his gently, playing with them as she spoke. "Growing up, I always thought Bryce looked like he was straight out of a Disney movie. He was this perfect Prince Charming and I built all these dreams around him. But once I actually got to know him . . . he might still be a Prince Charming to someone. But he's not mine." She lifted her head to look at Chuck. "Because I found someone so much better. Someone who's a prince in a million little ways and doesn't even realize it."

His expression made her feel a little breathless. Or maybe it was also her confession. But either way, when Sarah gazed at Chuck, who looked wide-eyed and thrilled and a little doubtful but so happy, she wasn't sure if she was breathing when he kissed her slowly.

They ignored the rest of their lunch and spent as much time together as possible over the next three days. But Sarah still had to wrap up her assignment, which led to a lot of soul-searching.

There were lots of reasons for her to continue as a CIA agent-and one very good one to quit. Now that they were officially dating, Chuck was everything she could have dreamed of for a boyfriend and more. He made time for her, yet didn't whine or act annoyed when she had her own work to do. His acceptance of her work at Bartowski Electronics had floored her-she had searched for any sign that he was resentful or suspicious of her, but she found nothing. In fact, he seemed grateful that she had worked so hard to protect him.

So her decision to not quit had nothing to do with Chuck. True, she had her own fears about what kind of girlfriend she was, but . . . but she knew she was committed to Chuck and it wouldn't matter who she met while she was gone, because no one could compare to Chuck. It wasn't a matter of thinking she would be seen as a failure or wasting all that training to leave now. But as much as she loved being with Chuck, as much as she didn't want to only see him in-between missions . . . she felt like she needed to know if she could be a spy.

Joining the CIA had been a split-second decision, but she still thought it was the right one for her. She wanted to be a spy. But that meant leaving Chuck. It was like her heart and her head were fighting her.

When she explained that to Chuck, during dinner in his condo three days after the press conference, he had immediately reached across the table to take her hand. "I want you to be happy," Chuck said, his voice soft as he looked at her. "This isn't the 1950s. You don't have to choose, me or a career."

"But what if my job gets in the way of us?" she asked, holding his hand tightly.

"We don't know that will happen," he said, sending a small thrill through her at his use of the word 'we'. "I think you need to find out if working for the CIA is good for you. And if isn't, you can come back here and do something else. After all, statistics show that every person has several different careers over their lives. Your first job won't be your last one."

When he got like this, demonstrating his intelligence, she always felt a small flutter in her belly. Sarah made herself focus on the conversation. "That's true," she said softly. "So-I give the CIA a shot. After a few missions, I think I'll know what I want. From my career, that is."

He nodded, a soft smile on his face. "I think that's a good idea. In fact, maybe you should make yourself a promise: six months as a spy before you decide if it's the right choice for you."

Six months was certainly reasonable, although perhaps more time than Sarah was thinking. But he was right: she needed to give this a real try. And the fact that he was willing to give her this time, even when it meant barely seeing her . . . she knew that it was a promise she would do everything to keep. Because she wanted him to know that she had no doubts, no second-guessing, if she chose to quit.

"And how would you handle those six months?" she asked him, leaning in towards him.

"I would miss you so much, but if you're out there, making the world a safer place . . . I think the world deserves that after all it's given me."

Sarah propped her chin in her hand, gazing at him in the candlelight. "So I'm a reward for your good karma?" she teased, rubbing her thumb against his palm.

Chuck laughed softly. "No . . . but I am the luckiest guy in the world."

The utter sincerity in his voice made Sarah smile at him brightly. "Also the sweetest and the most handsome and-wow, you are really blushing."

"From now on, I'm just going to kiss you when you get like this," he said, leaning across the table.

"No objections," Sarah said just before his lips covered hers.

XXX

"Miss? Miss, would you like something to drink?"

"Hmm?" Sarah said, turning her head to look at the flight attendant. Then, coming out her haze, Sarah shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

The flight attendant smiled and nodded, continuing on with her duties. Sarah turned back to the window of the plane, gazing down at the landscape and waiting for a glimpse of San Francisco. It was nearly an hour before the plane was due to land, so it was foolish of her to be watching like a hawk. But considering who was waiting for her, Sarah didn't think there was anything for her to feel embarrassed about.

It had been over five months since that day at Bartowski Electronics, and although she had only gotten to spend about ten days' worth of scattered hours with Chuck, they had been very good days. And when she was gone on spy missions, they practically wore out their cell phones with calls and texts and picture messages and even an occasional video.

Sarah sighed softly. Even with all that, she still missed Chuck. Still longed for him, still wished that things could be different. But she had made him a promise and she had kept it. Almost-there was still two weeks to go officially. But she was so close to the end that she thought it was okay to take advantage of this vacation to make her decision: stay with Chuck or keep working.

Since she had left for her second mission, it had been ten days with Chuck and a hundred and forty-four without him. And although there had been plenty of moments during those hundred and forty-four days when she had had felt a rush of confidence and enthusiasm, nothing compared to the feeling she got when she first saw Chuck after weeks apart. That rush might even be addictive, it was so good.

But it had also made her wonder. Did she need that rush? Was that helping or hurting her relationship with Chuck? She got her answer the last time she saw Chuck, which happened to be when he was in the same area she was and they could spend a day together before he flew back to San Francisco. Lying next to him in bed, she had gazed at him as he slept, feeling such a profound sadness at the thought of him leaving soon. That was what he felt every time she had to leave him-and he had let her go every time. Without whining or guilt-tripping her. He had simply let her go.

The rush didn't overcome the sadness. And that made her realize she had already made her decision.

The click of the public address system and the beginning of the initial descent announcement made Sarah spring into action. She dug out her bag and checked her makeup and hair, applying a light coat of lip gloss. Returning her purse to underneath the seat in front of her, she checked her seat belt and then reached up to play a little with her necklace. Chuck had given it to her, the first time they had seen each other after she returned to spy work. The gold chain was so fine to be nearly invisible, yet had the same tensile strength as a bungee cord, according to a very proud, very excited Chuck. The pendant was a round gold circle, about the size of a silver dollar. The front-facing side was smooth and flawless, but on the back was engraved several different foreign words.

"They all say 'heart'," Chuck had explained a bit shyly when he had given it to her. "Just . . . just so you know that I'm thinking of you when you're gone."

As she rubbed her fingers over the pendant, looking out the window of the plane, she wondered if he had realized how important his gift had become to her. No matter what, she always knew where that pendant was. It had become like a talisman for her: if she had it, she would come back to Chuck safely and return his heart to him.

Sarah blushed a little, feeling embarrassed by how sappy her thoughts were. But in a half hour, she'd be with Chuck again for a whole week, thanks to the Christmas holidays and the special event they would be attending together. She hadn't spent this much time with him since they had met, and she had a lot of plans for their time together.

It felt like the minutes crawled until the plane landed and pulled up to the gate. Even before the all-clear was given, Sarah had unbuckled her seatbelt, feeling too fidgety to stay strapped in. She breathed deeply, reminding herself that good things came to those who waited. But until she was off the plane and into the terminal, it was all she could not to use her training and fight her way through the crowd.

Once her boots hit the tiles of the terminal's floor, she took off like a shot, dodging around people and obstructions. As she approached the baggage claim area, she made herself slow down and catch her breath. She didn't want to have to stop kissing Chuck hello because of something like a lack of oxygen.

Thanks to the holiday season, the airport was bustling and crowded, with thousands of people milling around the terminal. But spotting Chuck was always easy. Not because he was taller than most people, but because her body could feel him when he was nearby.

She felt that little tingle and turned, immediately spotting him. He was holding a bouquet of gardenias, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt along with his Dodgers cap. And when her eyes locked on his, a huge happy smile appeared on his face.

Somehow, they got around the people in their way and then she was in his arms, holding him tightly. Being hugged by Chuck always felt amazing, but the first time after they reunited felt doubly so.

"Hi," he whispered in her ear.

With a small giggle, she pulled back enough to smile up at him. "Hi, yourself."

He grinned and kissed her softly, his fingers stroking along her jaw. Sarah kissed him back, sighing against his lips. "Mmm," she said, nuzzling him a little.

"I got here a half hour before the plane even landed, I was so ready to see you," Chuck admitted softly.

"I was ready to get out and start pushing the plane," she said.

Chuck snickered. "'Would it help if I got out and pushed'?" he quoted. They had done a Star Wars marathon a few months ago, and ever since Chuck had never failed, as far as Sarah could tell, to use a quote from the movies whenever it was remotely applicable.

Sarah grinned. "C'mon, Han, let's see if my bag is ready." She stepped back but immediately took his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

His ears turned a bit pink, clearly pleased by her comparing him to Han Solo, then he held the flowers out to her. "Welcome home," he said, his happy smile in place.

"Thank you," she said, taking the gardenias and enjoying their heavenly fragrance. She smiled up at him. "I'm glad to be home."

"Even if part of your trip is taken up with Bryce's wedding?" Chuck asked, walking with her towards the baggage claim belt for her flight.

"Yep," she said, swinging their hands. "After all, I have a wonderful date for the wedding. One that I think will look amazing in a tux."

Chuck's blush deepened, then he ducked his head and kissed her lightly. "And I have a beautiful date."

In the months they had been dating, Chuck had slowly gotten used to getting compliments from her. But he still blushed and he still kissed her when he thought she went too far. So of course, she made sure to tell him everything she was thinking in order to get a kiss. And when Chuck gave her a compliment back, it made the kiss even sweeter.

Leaning against his side, Sarah rested her head on his shoulder.

"Tired?" he asked, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her.

"A little," Sarah said. "Do you have to go back to work?"

He laughed. "No, I cleared my calendar for today."

"Really?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, really," Chuck said. "I had some things to get ready for your visit. And there was no way I was going back to the office after picking you up." He moved his eyebrows up and down, in a move that she had termed 'the Bartowski Eyebrow Dance.' It was cute and adorable more than sexy and seductive, but it still made her feel warm and very ready to find some private, horizontal place.

Sarah leaned up and pecked his lips. "That was very wise of you."

The clanging alarm that indicated bags arriving made Chuck jump. Sarah laughed softly and gently nudged his hip with her own. "Easy, there."

"I'm fine!" he said quickly. "Just ready to get out of here."

Spotting her bag, she gave him a quick raised eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" She started to step forward to get in position for retrieving her bag, but Chuck's voice in her ear stopped her.

"I am so ready to have you all to myself. To kiss you like I want to kiss you. I am so ready to make love to you."

Her knees actually wobbled. Sarah looked up at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. There was a hint of red on his cheeks, but he looked back at her with confidence in his eyes. It seemed like he had decided turnabout was fair play and had gone overboard in order to get a kiss.

So she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with everything she had. Who cared if her bag went around the baggage claim a few times?

XXX

Sarah found herself humming as she got ready in her old room inside her father's apartment. Since Bryce and Elizabeth were getting married at Skylark Wines-with their reception to follow at Sweetie's Winery, due to the insistence of Elizabeth's mother-it had been easier for her and Chuck to get ready here. But since Mrs. Larkin was not exactly Sarah's biggest fan, she was staying with her father while Chuck was at the mansion.

Since Elizabeth had specified all guests should wear black formal attire, Sarah had picked a gown with a wide set halter, one that gave her good cleavage while leaving half her back bare. She was looking forward to Chuck's reaction to it, especially since he always liked stroking along her spine. A small shiver went over her as she imagined him doing that to her soon, and Sarah smiled goofily at herself in the mirror.

After curling her hair and pulling it back in a knot, letting tendrils caress her face and neck, she did her makeup before slipping on her dress. Sarah turned back and forth in front of her mirror, smiling at the way the fabric flowed around her legs and shimmered in the light. She adjusted her pendant, then added long golden earrings.

Her father looked up when she stepped out into the living room, letting out a soft whistle. "That's some dress."

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're gonna give the kid a heart attack," Jack said with a small smirk.

"Oh, Chuck's heart is very healthy," she said before giggling quietly.

He shook his head with a grin. "Uh-huh."

"Thanks for letting me get ready here, Dad," she said, perching on the edge of the sofa next to him.

"You're always welcome, darlin'." He glanced over at her. "The kid's treating you okay?"

Sarah nodded as she absentmindedly touched her pendant. "Like a princess."

"Just how he should," he said, a touch of approval in his voice.

Although her father's opinion wouldn't have changed how she felt about Chuck, the fact that her dad liked Chuck made her happy. Chuck had been nervous when they had run into Jack upon their arrival at the apartment, stumbling over his words a little. But Jack had put him at ease and Chuck had soon settled into a friendly conversation with her dad.

Watching the two of them together, Sarah had felt a glimmer of nostalgia. She had looked over at the picture of herself with her parents, wondering if her mother would have liked Chuck. Somehow, Sarah felt that her mother would think Chuck was adorable.

"So you gonna stop workin' whatever job's got you traveling all over and settle down?"

Since she hadn't wanted to reveal her true profession to her father, she had told him that she had started working at Bartowski Electronics while waiting to find out about the job she really wanted-a job she had been offered after three weeks in Napa. She looked over at her father and smiled a little. "Eager for someone to take me off your hands?"

"Not exactly, darlin'," he said, grinning for a moment before his smile faded. "Just think you'd rather stay close to the kid."

"I would . . ." Sarah said slowly. "But with my job, it means traveling." She paused and looked at her dad. "Chuck and I talked before I left, and I promised that I would give this new job six months before I decided what I wanted to do."

"Been about that long since you left," Jack pointed out.

"I know," Sarah said. She tucked a curl behind her ear. "I'm going to tell Chuck my decision tonight."

Her father nodded. "Good luck."

Sarah gave him a smile and kissed his cheek lightly. "Thanks, Dad."

A knock on the door made Sarah jump to her feet, checking her appearance in the mirror. "We might come back here after the reception, but we'll keep it quiet."

Jack let out a snort as he stood up, following her to the door. "Yeah, sure."

As she opened the door, she threw a look at her father over her shoulder before she turned to face Chuck. She gripped the door when she got a look at him in his tux.

Now she wished her father wasn't standing just behind her. Because all she could think was broad shoulders and narrow waist and long legs and soft-looking curls and big eyes the color of very good whisky and she wanted to kiss him so much.

There was a clunk and a ping, and Sarah couldn't help smiling widely at him. "You dropped your keys again."

"Yeah, I did," Chuck said, his eyes not leaving her face. He cleared his throat. "You pulled out all the stops. Not that you need to, 'cause you're always beautiful, but . . . wow."

Whenever she got a compliment from Chuck, she knew he meant it. The sincerity always shone in his words. It made her blush and lower her gaze to the knot of his tie. "Thank you," she said softly. "You look so handsome."

Chuck smiled brightly at her. He bent down to pick up his keys, then looked over her shoulder. "Good evening, Mr. Walker."

"Hiya, kid. No driving drunk tonight," her father said.

"No chance of that, sir. Especially not with Sarah in the car," Chuck said, his hand cupping Sarah's elbow.

Sarah grabbed her clutch. "Good night, Dad!" she said, hurrying Chuck down the stairs. Once they were outside, she looked at him and laughed. "You are so cute."

"He makes me nervous," Chuck said, his hands reaching out to rest on her hips. "I mean, he's your dad."

Sliding her hands over his arms, she smiled at him. "He likes you, though. Mostly because I like you."

His smile was bright and happy as he leaned in to kiss her. She smiled against his lips as she kissed him back.

"You really look beautiful," he said softly, gazing down at her.

She felt her cheeks flush. "You wanted a beautiful date. Since I knew you'd come through-and then some-on your end, I had to do the same."

Chuck pulled her closer. "You'd look beautiful in jeans and an old t-shirt," he said, looking at her like she was a dream come true.

That deserved a kiss and then some. But standing in the parking lot of the winery, all she could was kiss him, which she did.

It was a shame that they had the wedding to attend. She would have been happy to spend the evening right here, just her and Chuck. But she had to admit, she was curious about this wedding and wanted to finally meet Elizabeth. So Sarah pulled back a little from Chuck and smiled up at him. "Ready to go?"

"Definitely," he said, offering her his arm.

As they began walking up the path towards the mansion, Sarah leaned against him. She wanted to have a good time tonight, especially with her decision to share with Chuck. It seemed like tonight, with Christmas right around the corner, was the right time to give Chuck an early holiday present.

XXX

The wedding ceremony was as ornate and over-the-top as Sarah had suspected it would be. Although Bryce had mentioned that Elizabeth had wanted to get married in a bikini, for her wedding dress she had chosen a ballgown so bedecked in crystals and lace and tulle that Sarah didn't know how she could fit through doorways. But Elizabeth Harvey could pull it off, Sarah admitted: she had a regal, graceful bearing that didn't fully hide a businesslike, no-nonsense attitude. Now she could understand why Mrs. Larkin had encouraged Bryce to marry Elizabeth.

When she got married, though, Sarah had no intention of such a cumbersome dress. She'd want something simpler, something she could move around in, something that would let her dance with Chuck and-

Sarah swallowed, feeling her face flush. That was getting much too carried away. A lot needed to happen before they could talk about something so permanent as marriage. Just because she was at a wedding was no reason to let herself fall into some silly, romantic daydream. Her love of fairy tales was bad enough.

A breath stirred her hair and washed over her cheek. "Everything okay?" Chuck whispered in her ear.

She didn't know whether he had sensed some tension in her, or if her expression had given away her thoughts. Either way, she didn't want him to worry about her, so she nodded and gave him a small smile.

Chuck smiled back and took her hand, holding it loosely through the rest of the ceremony. She laced her fingers through his, enjoying being able to hold his hand, to spend time with him. Before this week, the most time they had gotten to spend together was two days, so a whole seven days was a luxury. And as nice as it was to spend the first day in bed, and the second day not leaving his condo . . . she liked being with Chuck in public. Walking through the streets of Palo Alto, running errands or eating out, being able to tell him a joke and not only hear his laughter, but see how his eyes crinkled up and his mouth smiled at her.

Soon, she could have this all the time. And that thought sent a flutter of doubt through her. Was this normal? To feel so happy with another person? Maybe they hadn't spent enough time together-maybe they were still in that honeymoon phase that the magazines talked about. Could she be making a mistake by deciding to stay with him? They'd never even had a real fight. She didn't know if Chuck was the type to sulk or break things or go icily quiet when he was angry.

The pounding chords of the wedding march interrupted her thoughts, making her realize the wedding was over. Taking a deep breath, she watched Bryce and Elizabeth walk down the aisle, then turned to Chuck.

"What did you think?" Chuck asked as they waited to join the crowd heading towards the parking lots.

"Oh . . . it was nice," Sarah said, trying to sound normal.

"Yeah, it was," he said, rubbing his thumb against her hand. "I'm glad that Bryce and Elizabeth seem to like each other, even though getting married when they don't love each other is kinda sad."

Sarah nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

"Now I'm looking forward to dinner," Chuck said as they walked to his car, parked in the family garage.

"Of course you are," Sarah said, feeling a wave of affection for him. "It's been, what, six hours since you ate?"

"More like eight," he said, grinning back at her. "I had brunch with the rest of the family before Bryce and his groomsmen drew me into a game of poker. It's a good thing Bryce won, or else we'd still be playing."

She laughed a little. "Did you get cleaned out?"

"I won a little," he said, nudging her shoulder with his. "What, you think I can't play poker?"

"With your face?" she asked, barely holding back laughter. "You can't bluff about anything."

"It's easier with someone who doesn't know you," he conceded. "You know all my secrets, though. No wonder you know when I'm holding back."

Maybe she did, but Sarah doubted it. But now she wanted to find them out. Being a bit scared of taking this next step, of staying with Chuck, was natural. Because there was a lot riding on this. But she knew that she could trust him. She did trust him. So she was ready to step off the ledge.

"All of them?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"Yep," he said, leaning down to kiss her before opening the car door for her. "And if there's anything you don't know, you're welcome to ask whenever you want."

Once they were both in the car, Sarah turned to face him. "You do know how dangerous it is to tell a spy that, right?"

Chuck's response was only a wide grin, then he started the car. Sarah leaned back against the seat, watching him and holding up her end of the conversation as they drove to the reception at Sweetie's Winery.

Something that she had discovered since she told Chuck the truth about her job was how much he admired her skills. When she had demonstrated her martial arts abilities for him, he had been very impressed. And a little turned-on, she thought with a small smile. Not only was it sweet, it showed the quiet confidence that Chuck had. He didn't mind that she could be more physically intimidating than he could.

As Chuck parked the car, he glanced over at her. "Ready for a night of drunken debauchery?"

"It's a wedding reception-just how debauched could it get?" Sarah asked, flipping down the visor so she could check her makeup.

"Clearly you've never been to a wedding in Napa," Chuck said with a grin. "And you look perfect."

He hopped out of the car as she blushed from his compliment. When he helped her out of the car, she made sure to pull him in for a quick, soft kiss. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" Chuck asked, his eyebrows knit together.

There were so many ways she could answer him, ranging from sincere truths to silly observations. But instead of answering him, she kissed him again and said, "No reason."

With a chuckle, he held his arm out to her. "Let's get our reception on, then."

"Yes, let's," she said, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm and grinning up at him.

The contrast between the relatively quiet parking lot and the reception itself was extreme, Sarah thought. The reception was in a large field that had a dance floor overlaid on the grass. Big band standards competed with dance music, thanks to an orchestra and a DJ both playing at the same time. A bevy of waiters moved around the area, offering crab puffs, fig and goat cheese tarts, and crostini with prosciutto and pear. Several bartenders were at the ready with bottles of red and white wine, all locally produced of course. Huge arrangements of gardenias and lilies perfumed the air, and paper lanterns and the moon lit up the space.

It was all so overwhelming. Sarah looked up at Chuck. "It's like this reception is a tug-of-war between Elizabeth and her mother."

"What?" Chuck yelled, leaning down towards her. "I didn't hear you."

Sarah couldn't help laughing. She mimed drinking from a glass, and Chuck nodded back with a grin before following her towards the nearest bar. Once they had gotten glasses of wine, Sarah looked around and pulled Chuck away from the dance floor, towards a large oak tree.

"To being able to think," Chuck said, holding his glass up in a toast.

"To thinking," Sarah said, clinking her glass against his and then taking a sip. She hoped it would quiet down some, or else telling Chuck about her decision would be more difficult than she thought.

Fortunately, her wish came true once the wedding party-and the mother of the bride-arrived at the reception. The orchestra and DJ alternated sets, keeping the volume low enough for conversation during the dinner of filet mignon and lobster. While Chuck spent most of dinner chatting with some old family friends also seated at their table, Sarah had mostly watched the reception begin to spiral out of control. The wine flowed, and by the end of the five-course meal, Sarah could see what Chuck meant about drunken debauchery. The tiny portions of food weren't enough to counteract all the wine that was being drunk. She guessed it wouldn't be long before it got really crazy, and she couldn't help smiling. It seemed like the kind of party that Bryce would want for his wedding, so she wondered if on this, he had managed to hold his own with Elizabeth and her mother.

As if conjured by her thoughts, Bryce and Elizabeth passed by their table, heading towards the dance floor. Bryce grinned widely at Sarah. "Hey!" he said, leaning down and brushing a light kiss over her cheek. "You look great."

"Thanks," Sarah said, giving both Bryce and Elizabeth a smile. "Congratulations."

"Thank you!" Elizabeth said. "It's wonderful to have you and Chuck here." Having changed into a slinky silk gown between the wedding and the reception, Elizabeth looked much more comfortable now.

"This reception is something else," Sarah said, gesturing for Elizabeth to sit in Chuck's chair, since he had stood up to talk with Bryce.

Elizabeth snickered. "You should have seen Bryce and my mother fighting about this. But yeah, everyone's having a good time, and that's what you want at a wedding reception."

"Hey, Liz!" Bryce said, leaning down and kissing her neck. "Let's dance with Chuck and Sarah."

"Don't call me that," Elizabeth said, even as she shivered from Bryce's kiss. "And what?"

"I dance with Sarah, you dance with Chuck," Bryce said. "C'mon, it'll be fun."

If she hadn't drunk two large glasses of wine, Sarah might be suspicious of all this. She was a little worried about just what Bryce wanted, but when Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shrugged, Sarah decided to go along and see what happened.

Chuck bowed with a flourish to Elizabeth and then began dancing with her, as the orchestra broke into _Isn__'__t __It __Romantic__?_ Sarah looked at Bryce and quirked her eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Bryce grinned at her. "We never got to dance to this. I thought I'd give you a thrill." He waggled his eyebrows, in a pale, lesser imitation of Chuck's version, and held his hand out to her.

Sarah nearly laughed in his face, but just took his hand and let him pull her into his arms. "So how's married life, for the third time?" she asked.

"So far, so good," he said. "Better than the first two times. Which just proves that I do learn, eventually."

His eyes were bright, but she didn't think it was just liquor. Bryce seemed genuinely happy. And even though it was a bit odd, she couldn't help wishing him happiness. So she smiled and danced with him.

"So you and Chuck, huh?" Bryce asked, speaking quietly.

Looking over his shoulder, she caught sight of Chuck, smiling at Elizabeth and making her laugh. And she couldn't help smiling, knowing that he was all hers.

"Yeah," she said, looking at Bryce. "Me and Chuck."

Bryce nodded. "You two are good together. I knew this would happen, though, as soon as I found out he took you to Dragon Number One."

"What?" Sarah asked, feeling confused.

"Chuck never took dates there. It was the one place he didn't want to risk having unhappy memories attached to," Bryce said. He rolled his eyes a little. "He went on this whole rant once, about how he took this girl there when he was in college and it didn't work out and it took him months to not think about her when he walked inside, which ruined the food for him. He said he wouldn't take another girl there until he was sure about her."

"Oh," Sarah said, feeling her mind stop for a moment. That was certainly something to ask Chuck about: if he had been sure about her so early on. Because if he knew that quickly that he liked her . . .

She felt her face flush. And suddenly, Bryce was the last man she wanted to dance with.

"I think it's time to switch partners?" she said, hearing her voice shake a little. Maybe it was the wine, but she had to get to Chuck.

Bryce lightly patted her shoulder. "Yeah, of course." He lightly kissed her cheek again. "Enjoy the rest of the party."

"Thanks," she said quietly, struggling to get her emotions under control.

With all his innate grace, Bryce maneuvered them towards Elizabeth and Chuck. He said something softly to Chuck and it only took a moment for Chuck to step back and let Bryce dance with his wife.

As soon as Chuck was free, Sarah moved up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for all she had.

"Hey . . ." Chuck said softly, his hand rubbing her bare shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Sarah rested her face against his chest, taking a few deep breaths. Almost immediately she felt calmer and a little embarrassed. She looked up at him. "Sorry . . . I just-it's hard to explain."

His forehead wrinkled, making him look worried. "Do you need to get away from the noise?"

"I'm okay now, really," she said, trying to sound strong. But Chuck's expression didn't change. He turned them both carefully, moving off the dance floor and away from the music. And it felt so good to be alone with Chuck that Sarah didn't argue any more that she was fine.

Once they were a few hundred yards away, Chuck looked at her. "Better?" he asked, tenderly stroking her cheek.

She nodded, feeling less panicked now that they were away from the noise and heat of the crowd. "Yes. I'm sorry, it was all too much-the wine and the music and the people . . ."

Chuck wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I know, baby."

Cuddling against him, Sarah sighed softly, closing her eyes. They weren't really a pet-name couple, but sometimes he called her 'baby' and it was . . . it was nice. Even though intellectually she knew all the reasons she shouldn't like it, hearing Chuck's voice soften when he said that nickname was too wonderful not to like.

He stroked her shoulders lightly, his other hand pressed flat against her lower back, his fingers spread wide. She felt protected and safe and warm, like nothing bad could ever happen to her. And even better was knowing that he felt the same way with her. That she would take care of anything that tried to hurt him. Chuck wasn't some macho hero, a prince who rescued the damsel in distress. He let her do the rescuing, too.

Sarah tilted her head back to look up at him. "How about you?"

"I'm good," he said, giving her a lopsided grin. "Glad that it's just you and me now."

"Me, too," she said, sliding her hand up to play with the curls on the back of his neck. She took a deep breath. This was it. It was time to tell him her decision, because she was tired of waiting. She wanted to get the rest of her life started. "Chuck?"

"Yeah, Sarah?"

"I-I know this might not seem like the ideal place or time," she said, stumbling a little over her words, "but it's been nearly six months since I left . . ."

Under her hands, she could feel him stiffen a little. "Um, yes," he said, his voice hesitant. "Technically, it's been five months, two weeks, and six days, but . . . but who's counting?" he said, grinning nervously.

"You have," she said softly. "And so have I."

Chuck loosened his hold on her, taking a step back but keeping his hands resting lightly at her waist. "What are you saying, Sarah?"

"I'm saying . . . I'm saying I know what I want," Sarah said, gazing up at him. "I know I'm a week early, but-but I don't want to keep leaving you. I don't want to see you for a week and a half over a six-month period. I want to wake up with you every day and go to sleep with you every night, and laugh and cry and eat together. I want all the things that a normal couple have." She took a deep breath, since he wasn't saying anything, just staring at her with eyes that were getting bigger and bigger. "Chuck? You-you want to be a normal couple with me?"

The moment she spent waiting, looking up at him and wondering about his own doubts, about her own fears, felt endless. But then, a huge, happy, beaming smile lit up his face and he pulled her into the tightest hug she had ever received.

"Oh, Sarah," he said softly. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this for me-I'll take whatever I can have with you."

She could feel tears threaten a little, but she pushed them back as she rubbed his back. "I'm sure. I'm doing this for me. I-I'm so greedy when it comes to you. What I've gotten hasn't been more than a taste. I need more."

A rumble of laughter rolled through Chuck's body. "And here I thought I was being unrealistic, wanting so much more." He brushed a soft kiss over her temple. "'Greedy' about sums it up. I've felt like a Ferengi."

"What?" she asked, tipping her head back to look at him.

"Star Trek reference, baby. Never mind." He brushed her hair off her face, his expression so tender and soft and full of love that Sarah shivered. And when he brought his lips to hers, Sarah found herself clinging to him.

She couldn't stop kissing him. Couldn't stop touching him. All she wanted was him-and now she had him.

"How much have you had to drink?" Sarah muttered against his lips. "God, I need you."

"Not too much," he said in-between kisses. "But if you keep doing that thing with your hands, we'll be lucky if we make it to the car before I have to tear all your clothes off."

With a giggle, Sarah pulled back, holding her hands out to her sides. "Like I couldn't get you naked first."

Chuck laughed, his delight evident in his face. "Oh, you could. Y'know, since you'll be out of work soon, now seems like a good time to tell you I've always wanted a beautiful, hot bodyguard. I think I know just the woman." He swooped in and kissed her cheek. "Race you to the car."

As sweet as it was that he was worrying about finding a job for her, Sarah wasn't about to get distracted. Not when she had this handsome, hot man grinning at her and making her want to find the nearest flat surface. "I'll win," Sarah said, reaching down to pull off her heels.

"I'm counting on it," Chuck said, grinning at her before he took off.

As Sarah Walker ran through a Napa Valley vineyard, holding her heels in one hand and her skirt in another, feeling her pendant slap against her skin as she moved, she thought that in a fairy tale, this was when there would be a prediction about their lives together. Telling how they would get married and have children and live happily ever after. A fairy tale always ended like this, with the prince and princess together without any evil fairies or stepmothers to get in their way. After all, the traditional ending was 'And they all lived happily ever after'.

But this wasn't an ending. It was just the beginning for them.

End.


End file.
